The Sleeping Sickness
by Sadakat
Summary: Nightmares. The only solidity Harry Potter can count on anymore. As he enters his sixth year at Hogwarts, he will face a new nightmare in the form of one Severus Snape. But will it be as bad as they both expect it to be? COMPLETE!
1. I awoke

Author's Note: Hello all! First, I feel I should say this story is AU, but isn't every fanfic? It follows canon through book five, then I take over from there :-D So if you have not read those five books, be wary because this story will contain some spoilers!

Second, this is sort of a song fic, but not really. The song The Sleeping Sickness by City and Colour has been on the radio like mad recently, and it reminds me of Harry Potter's situation. Therefore, I kind of just stole the title of the song, and the lyrics will be the chapter titles.

And third, my Severus Snape is based more on Alan Rickman's version of him, as I feel he is a little bit less of a git than Snape was in the books. All right then? On we go and enjoy!

* * *

The Sleeping Sickness

Chapter 1: I awoke, only to find my lungs empty

A sixteen-year-old Harry Potter sat up quickly, a silent scream caught in his throat. His thin, some would even say _too_ thin, body was engulfed in a cold sweat. He panted heavily, eyes darting around his dark room. He glanced at the clock on his bedside table.

"_4:22_" he read to himself, barely making out the blurry numbers without the aid of his glasses.

Hedwig hooted softly from her cage, clearly worried about her owner. Sighing heavily, Harry's head fell into his hands. This was a nightly occurrence for the boy, his nightmares waking him even from the deepest of sleeps. He had trained himself to silence his terror though; it was something he had to do. If his Uncle Vernon had been woken up at Harry's expense, there would be hell to pay. The emerald-eyed teenager had found this out the hard way on many separate occasions.

It was a hot summer night, close to ninety degrees in fact. Harry hated the summer, but not because of the heat. He had no problem being in his stiflingly hot room, to which the air conditioning duct had been permanently sealed courtesy of one Vernon Dursley. No, it was what lurked outside of his room that he hated. Uncle Vernon, aunt Petunia and cousin Dudley, his "family". Harry snorted to himself at that thought. Family was what chased away the bad dreams and replaced them with the good. Family was a comforting hug or reassuring pat on the back when you felt at your worst. Family was protection from anything and everything that attempted to harm you. Family was loving with all your heart, and actually receiving that love in return.

Harry found it hard to believe that he shared any blood relation to the Dursleys at all. They were, in fact, the complete opposite in every way to what a family was supposed to be. They caused the nightmares, well, some of them anyway. The only "pat" Harry ever received was a hand to the face or a fist in his stomach. He never felt safe and the only love from a parent he had ever had, he was regrettably too young to remember it.

Harry's fists clenched at his sides. It was hard to think about his parents. There were a lot of things in his life that were hard to think about, especially after his last term at Hogwarts. The weight that had lifted off of his shoulders as a result of the entire wizarding world finally knowing that Voldemort had returned was incredibly satisfying, but at what price? His godfather, the only other chance he had at a parental figure in his life, was taken from him, had died for him.

A lot of people had died for him.

Harry's eyes prickled with what should have been tears. Scowling, he rubbed at his eyes to prevent any such sign of weakness from occurring. He had not cried for his godfather, he had not cried for as long as he could remember.

"_Hogwarts_," Harry thought to himself with a smile. "_Only a couple more days and I'll be heading back there_."

That thought was what always got Harry through the summers. The promise of seeing his friends again, and leaving the Dursleys behind, was always in the back of his mind. Despite the fact that every year thus far had put Harry's very life in danger, he would take the risk of being at school over Number 4, Privet Drive any day of the week.

Harry laid his head back onto the hard pillow the Dursleys had "so kindly" parted with. He stared up at the ceiling, trying to fill his head with thoughts of Ron and Hermione, the Great Hall and its feasts, anything to take his mind off his nightmares. There would be no more sleep for him tonight. He was used to it. And he waited for the first rays of sunlight to filter through his window.

* * *

Harry squinted into the unforgiving heat of the sun, his eyes stinging as his sweat poured into them. He continued pushing Vernon Dursley's ancient lawn mower with as much strength as he could muster. It didn't matter that he had already cut the grass yesterday, and the day before. If it was above ninety, or raining, his aunt and uncle would make him work outside. And on the nice eighty degree days, complimented by a gentle breeze, Harry would be inside, dusting Dudley's shelves of endless possessions. Most of them his spoiled, portly cousin never even used.

Harry didn't care though. He was only a day and a half away from being dropped off at platform nine and three-quarters. All he had to do was bow to his adoptive family's whim, so as to avoid any… physical punishments. He had been successful the last five years, taking special care to do everything that was asked of him and not dare talk back the last two weeks before school. He needed those two weeks to go by without a hitch. This way, the bruises and welts would have time to heal, and no one, not even Headmaster Dumbledore, would be the wiser. He knew he had to stay with the Dursleys, as it allowed him the protection of the house from Voldemort. Now more than ever he needed that protection when he wasn't on the school grounds. If Dumbledore had found out, ever known what torture Harry was going through, he would be forced to find the boy a new place to stay. The emerald-eyed teenager did not want to burden anyone else. As the Dursleys had told him over and over again, he was lucky to even be accepted by them, given what a trouble-causing freak he was. And even for Harry's headstrong mind, he couldn't help but start to believe something that had been ingrained in him for as long as he could remember.

Harry turned his thoughts over to the sandwich he would be receiving once all of his chores were completed, which would be the only "meal" he received that day.

Suddenly, a loud clank, followed by an abnormal whirring noise snapped Harry out of his thoughts. He stopped the mower, began inspecting it and, right away, he was able to see that the belt had snapped.

Harry sucked in a breath; his eyes grew wide as his heart began to pound. Uncle Vernon was home today and would soon notice that he had stopped mowing. He would come out to inspect his work and find that his mower was broken. Any rational person would see that it was an accident and would go to the store to purchase a new belt. But not Vernon Dursley. Anything that had to do with Harry was a problem, and needed to be fixed.

As if on cue, the rotund figure of Harry's uncle stamped into the yard, an annoyed expression on his purple face.

"Done already, boy?" he asked with disbelief. His round face peered across the lawn as if trying to determine what had been cut and what hadn't. That being impossible, as it had all been cut yesterday and grass didn't grow _that_ fast.

Vernon Dursley looked angrily at his nephew. "There is no way you could have done the whole yard in a half hour you lazy, worthless-"

"I didn't stop on purpose," Harry interrupted, trying to control his temper. This proved more and more difficult as he got older and more inclined to fight back. "The belt on the lawnmower snapped."

Vernon's eyes narrowed dangerously. "Oh, did it?" he began with venom. "Did you use some of your freak magic to break it, hm? Trying to get out of your chores for the day, are you? That lawnmower was in perfect condition before your slimy, freak hands got a hold of it!"

"_Yeah, twenty years ago_," Harry thought to himself. "Uncle Vernon, I'm not allowed to use magic outside of school. You know that!" he added desperately.

"Hasn't stopped you before, has it?"

Harry winced, afraid of what he already knew was coming. He wanted to yell back that those times weren't his fault. He had to protect himself from the Dementors, and the other time was the house-elf Dobby's doing. But it wouldn't have mattered. He knew if he tried to explain himself the oncoming assault would be that much worse. If there was one thing his uncle hated, it was excuses from Harry. Well, that and the fact that Harry existed.

Vernon was closing in on Harry dangerously. There was a murderous gleam in his eye, one that the teenager had seen so many times before.

The large man plodded over to the lawnmower, grabbed the broken belt and yanked it out with one swift pull.

"We'll just have to think of a good use for this, now won't we, _freak_?"

Harry tried to swallow. His mouth was so dry from lack of water and intense fear that he found himself unable to. He then felt one meaty hand grab him roughly by the scruff of the neck before leading him inside.

* * *

Harry's hands muffled his scream as he woke. He slowly sat up in his bed, gasping for air despite the pain the hitching movement caused. Once he had calmed his breathing he reached an arm behind himself and tentatively felt the welts on his back.

There were a lot, and they were deep.

The nightmare that plagued him this night was an exact reenactment of what had happened earlier that day. As if he wanted to live through that again, Harry thought to himself with anger.

He could actually hear the snap of the rubber belt in his dream. He could feel the unrelenting sting of it with each pelt. He could even remember, word for word, every nasty thing his uncle shouted at him with each consecutive snap.

SNAP.

"You'll remember this the next time you want to break something, won't you?"

SNAP.

"You think you're special, but you're nothing!"

SNAP.

"You're a freak, just like your stupid, dead, worthless parents!"

SNAP.

Harry shuddered as he realized his mind was making him relive this for the third time in less than twelve hours. He lay back down gingerly, wincing at the pain it caused to his back. He had purposefully not inspected the damage. He had learned long ago that actually looking at the wounds caused a great deal more pain, and that was not something he longed for. These felt bad though, worse than usual. Many of the lashes had broken his skin, as when he later took his shirt off there were blood stains on the back. He figured that the hard rubber of the lawnmower belt must have been less forgiving than the usual leather he had to deal with.

Harry exhaled deeply, his sweaty brow knitted together in confusion. He just couldn't figure it out, the injustice of it all. He didn't know what he had ever done to deserve that kind of abuse. In fact, the insignificant detail that he was alive seemed to irritate not only the Dursleys, but Lord Voldemort as well. Sometimes it seemed that everyone was out to get him. Even his best friend, Ron, had gone against him. Sure it had only been for a little while and only because he was jealous of him being the "famous Harry Potter" but it had still hurt to lose his best friend, even if it was just a couple of weeks. Harry sighed loudly. He would trade places with anyone if it meant he could have a regular family, and there was no Dark Lord out to get him. He couldn't think of anyone who would enjoy that type of "fame".

The Boy-Who-Lived stared up at the ceiling, which came hand in hand with his nightly routine of nightmares. He would, once again, try to calm his troubled mind while waiting for the sun to rise, the former always proving itself much more difficult than the latter.

The next day went by without a hitch. Well, the best a day could go by when spending it with the Dursleys. That and his back felt as though it were burning all day long. But other than that, Harry had only been yelled at three times. The first was when Dudley accused him of playing with one of his video games. Harry argued he hadn't the foggiest idea how to even play one, what with never being allowed to.

He got a punch in the stomach for that one.

The second time was when Vernon declared Harry had put too much mayonnaise on his sandwich (even though Harry had measured out the exact amount Vernon wanted, like he always did) and that it would tamper with the progress of his diet. Harry had made the mistake of asking "What progress?"

As he made a mad dash for his room he heard a glass bottle that had narrowly missed his head, crash against the wall.

The third and final time was after dinner when Aunt Petunia told him he wasn't using enough dish soap. Harry wondered how she would know as the rest of the family were watching movies and eating popcorn. He decided not to think out loud this time and was rewarded.

He only had to hold the appropriate amount of dish soap in his mouth for twenty minutes.

He had brushed his teeth for what seemed like hours to get the soap taste out before retiring to his room. The messy haired teenager slipped onto his bed, lying on his side to avoid the pain that still raked his back. The pain had hurt badly all day long. It usually did though, and saying anything about it was never an option, because Vernon would always tell him he'd give him something to complain about. Uncle Vernon always kept his word with matters like those.

Harry's face contorted as he realized he could still taste the soap. Removing his mind from the events of the day, he smiled as he began thinking about tomorrow. He rolled onto his other side delicately, his mouth in a firm line as he fought the urge to shout in pain. Despite his discomfort, a small smile played on his lips. He had done it. He was headed to Hogwarts tomorrow and no one would know of his brutal treatment. Sure he had not come out completely unscathed like he had planned, but the only place it showed was his back. So long as he changed in private and showered when no one else was around, nobody would be the wiser.

He was so excited to see his best friends, his classmates, even his professors. Well, _most_ of his professors anyway. Even though he could not pinpoint exactly why he felt such an animosity toward one of them, more of it than usual, he couldn't deny the anger that welled up inside him at the thought of one man. He had felt this stronger surge of bitterness ever since the end of last term. Ever since Sirius had… well, ever since the end of the school year.

Dumbledore had explained to him that Professor Snape had ultimately saved his life, as well as the life of his friends. Snape had understood Harry's code in that desperate moment in Umbridge's office. Professor Snape had been his last hope and the man came through for him. So why was he still so angry with him?

"_Maybe if he had gathered up the courage to come and fight, Sirius wouldn't have died. Brooding, selfish git."_ Harry thought to himself.

His thoughts, however, quickly evolved into more nightmares as his physically and emotionally exhausted body gave into the temptation of sleep. And it was not long before Hedwig began hooting softly from her cage as the Boy-Who-Lived began mumbling in his sleep, his body twisting violently as he clutched his sheets with white-knuckled hands.

To be continued…

*I know that, _so far_, this is very similar to a lot of stories that are out there already. However, keep reading and I promise you won't be disappointed :-) Harry and Snape have their first confrontation in the next chapter, and that's where the real fun begins!


	2. Through the night

Chapter 2: And through the night, so it seems I'm not breathing

Harry was reading through heavy lidded eyes as his weary head began drooping. His muscles gave out from complete exhaustion, and his head snapped back up as a result. He tried his best to rub the sleep from his eyes. The sun had risen a couple hours ago, and it would soon be time to make the Dursleys their breakfast. He was almost glad for this, as the laboring would help him stay awake.

Harry scoffed at himself. Why he had decided to read the new book required for Professor Trelawney's class in order to stay awake was beyond him. Well, it was either that or the new book for potions class, as Hedwig had returned from the Weasley's just yesterday with the two new books required for next term. "_Thank you Mrs. Weasley_," Harry thought to himself. "_If it weren't for her I would never have any of my supplies."_

He knew that the Dursleys would rather die than help him get ready for _freak_ school. They only drop him off at the train because they're ecstatic to be rid of him for the school year, and they don't want any trouble from Dumbledore. One of their biggest fears would be having a wizard or witch psycho coming to their house to collect Harry. The whole neighborhood would find out and thus ruin their squeaky clean, boring muggle existence.

It was then that Harry heard rustling in the next room. He rolled his eyes. It was much easier to like the Dursleys when they were asleep. Sighing, he got out of bed and padded down stairs to begin breakfast.

Harry's back ached and burned with every move he made. From reaching up high to get the coffee mugs out, to bending down in order to retrieve a pan to cook eggs in. He held his grimacing inward, however, as there was no need to receive more punishment for "moaning and groaning".

"Good morning my sweet Duddy-kins!"

Harry snickered at seeing his aunt, complete with a fluffy pink robe and bunny slippers, kissing and cooing at his generously proportioned cousin.

At the sound of his quiet chuckling, his aunt looked up at him with a scowl. "And you," she began, pointing a bony finger in Harry's direction. "I thought we said you were to have breakfast ready for us when we got up, and you're just now starting it? Oh, your uncle will not be happy about this, not happy at all. You'd better hope it's done by the time he gets out of the shower."

"_I'm amazed he can get IN the shower_," Harry thought to himself with a smirk. "Yes, aunt Petunia," he came back sweetly.

Harry began cooking the eggs and bacon as the coffee brewed. He couldn't help but glower, when his aunt and cousin weren't looking of course. Not that they looked at him much except to bark orders. Most families would be doing special things for _him_ today. A real family would be sad he was leaving and want to make him a special breakfast. Not the Dursleys though, never the Dursleys. He would be lucky if his uncle told him "Don't let the door hit you in the arse on your way out," because usually Vernon would want the door to hit Harry, and hit him hard.

Luckily, Harry did have breakfast ready before his uncle came waddling down the stairs. That didn't stop his aunt, however, from telling Vernon that Harry had practically "slept in". He got a right good scolding for that.

Harry wished he could sleep in. His dreams wouldn't allow that, though. It seemed they got worse every night, and the exhaustion of only getting a few hours sleep each night was slowly catching up with him, more than he knew.

He had made it through the rest of the morning, and just a few hours later he was removing his trunk and Hedwig from his uncle's car. None of the Dursleys got out of the vehicle to help him with his things, and just as Harry had shut the door, the car screeched off, leaving the young boy in a cloud of dust.

"Right. Well, thanks for seeing me off then," Harry commented sardonically.

He then bolted toward the brick wall that would take him to the Hogwarts Express. He didn't care how he looked to the surrounding muggles, tearing off with his large trunk and caged owl, all he cared was that the sooner he was on platform nine and three quarters, the sooner he'd be away from summer. He really hated the summers.

Closing his eyes tightly, he ran through the wall and straight into the legs of one Rubeus Hagrid.

"What the-? 'arry!" the voice boomed.

Before Harry could stop him, the giant man lifted him off of his feet in a bear hug, squeezing the life out of the younger boy.

Harry's eyes shut tightly, his face turning to a grimace as he tried not to yell in pain. Hagrid's bear hug was doing nothing to help his aching back.

"Mmmph! Hagrid, it's good to see you too! But please, put me down!"

Hagrid's face fell at the pleading in Harry's voice. "Well sure 'arry," he said slowly as he set the boy down. "What's wrong with yeh?"

A meek expression covered the boys face. "Nothing Hagrid, just a bad sunburn is all."

A concerned look covered the larger-than-life man's face. "But, yeh don' look red…"

"HARRY!"

The Boy-Who-Lived whipped around to see Hermione running toward him. A large smile graced his face. It was so good to see her, and she had managed to get him out of a rather sticky situation.

He held open his arms as the bushy haired girl jumped into him. She squeezed him with all her might, but luckily, it was around his shoulders.

"It's so good to see you!"

"You too!" Harry smiled widely into his friend's shoulder.

As they released each other, Harry saw a familiar looking head of red hair walking toward them.

Ron had a huge smile on his face as the two boys shook hands.

"Good to see you, Harry. You look taller," Ron commented with a smirk.

"Thanks. Your hair looks redder," Harry came back with a grin.

An appalled look crossed Ron's face as he attempted to cover his hair with his hands. "It does?" he questioned dramatically.

Harry and Hermione laughed before consoling Ron that, no, his hair looked fine.

The commotion went on for a few minutes as the three of them continued saying their hellos and asking about each other's summers. It wasn't until the train whistle blew that Hagrid began ushering them all off toward the train.

"Off yeh go!" he bellowed, literally pushing the three teenagers with his two massive hands. "We'll be seein' more o' each other soon!"

* * *

The train ride to Hogwarts had been pretty uneventful, all except for Draco Malfoy's appearance to mock the three friends. Harry swore that Malfoy had a schedule that he kept, with exact times and dates to come and bother them. He was good at ignoring the slimy Slytherin these days though. Well, better than he used to be.

The Great Hall and its feast was just as amazing as it always was. Lit candles floated delicately above them as the tables filled themselves with the most amazing food. There was everything from whole turkeys to broiled salmon, fresh-baked cookies to a breathtaking seven layer double chocolate cake. Harry could never eat as much of it as he wanted to, most likely because his stomach had shrunk over the summer due to an inadequate amount of food.

As he pushed his plate of half-eaten food away and turned to say something to Ron, his eyes met with those of Professor Snape, who was sitting at the head table with the other professors. They stared at each other for a moment, Snape's face expressionless with a piercing gaze that was unwavering.

Ron took notice of Harry and Snape's staring contest a few moments later.

"Why do you think he's looking at you like that?" Ron questioned quietly.

Harry kept his eyes on the dark-robed Professor. "Probably trying to come up with his first insult of the year for me," Harry answered.

Ron snorted, shaking his head. "Come on Harry, let's go see Hermione in the common room," he beckoned, pulling his friend's arm to make him stop staring at Snape. "You two can scowl at each other all you want in our first Potions class."

Harry came back to reality as he turned from Snape and began walking out of the Great Hall. He sighed heavily. "Tell me again why we volunteered to take another year of Potions?"

Ron chuckled. "Because our stupid arses decided we wanted to be Aurors," he answered as he clapped his friend on the back.

Harry winced, but Ron did not notice as he continued.

"How pissed do you think Snape was when he found that we had both passed his section in the O.W.L.S.? I'll bet he about right committed himself, thinking he'd gone mad."

Harry laughed at this as they continued walking. "I wish he would have, then the two of us wouldn't have to deal with him."

Ron nodded his head in agreement. He then plastered his face with a scowl and began imitating the deep voice of the Potions master. "You two are so feeble minded, you wouldn't know a bat liver from the lung of a lacewing fly."

Both friends began laughing at Ron's impression, as it was rather good.

"Mr. Potter and Mr. Weasley."

Both Gryffindor's stopped laughing, neither needed to turn around as they immediately recognized the silky voice of their potions professor.

They heard the soft footsteps of the older wizard coming up closer behind them. They glanced at each other quickly, a nervous look gracing their features. They seemed to be asking each other the same pleading question with their eyes. "_There was no way he could have heard us imitating him. He was too far away, right?_"

"Surely you two at least have the manners to look at someone when they are speaking?"

Ron swallowed nervously as the two boys slowly turned around.

Professor Snape smirked at the two. They were so predictable. Potter with his look of defiance and Weasley looking uncomfortable, as though he were about to be sick.

"Professor," Harry began with a curt nod. "We were just heading to the common room and-"

"I know where it was you were going, Potter," Snape said with annoyance.

"Well great then!" Ron interjected with a scared smile. "Good catching up with you, sir! We'll just be on our way then…"

As Harry and Ron turned around to make a dash for the stairway, they were stopped mid-step by a strong hand gripping each of their shoulders.

Snape sighed angrily. "Don't make me chase you, Potter. I haven't got all day."

Harry turned around, looking quizzically up at his professor. "Sir?" he asked with a raised eyebrow.

"No doubt you two assume that I have nothing better to do with my time than stalk students. Be that as it may I, unfortunately, must speak with Mr. Potter alone."

Ron stood there awkwardly, looking nervously between his best friend and his most feared professor.

Snape sighed exasperatedly. "Off you go, Weasley," he said with impatience.

Ron jumped at this, as though his legs suddenly became unglued from the floor. "Right," he said with an uneasy look. "I'll just be going then. Maybe catch up on some reading," he added lamely as he began walking away.

"Good idea," Snape called after him. "Perhaps you should start with the remedial Potions book. You'll find, if you actually read it, that insects don't have lungs, Mr. Weasley."

The professor sneered as he saw Ron's walking had ceased, the young boy's shoulders tensing. Wordlessly, the red haired boy began walking again, more quickly paced now. He was grumbling under his breath about sneaky professors and their superhuman hearing.

Harry couldn't help but chuckle at how fast Ron could walk without actually breaking into a run.

"Glad to see that your friend's lack of education amuses you so."

The boy's lanky body turned to face the professor. "The only thing that is amusing, _sir_, is the fact that you seem to intimidate him," Harry finished bravely.

The professor's eyebrows raised ever so slightly, his dark eyes carefully regarding the young man who stood before him. "Come then, Potter." Snape began walking away, his robes billowing out from behind him. "There will be plenty of time left this year for insulting each other. However, as of right now, we have business to attend to."

Harry watched with surprise as his professor began walking away, without so much as a snide comeback. He jogged to catch up with Snape's long strides, following closely behind as the older man led them down a winding staircase and into Snape's office.

Harry gulped. He had remembered what happened the last time he was in here. How could he forget, really? He had looked into the pensieve and had seen something he was never meant to know about. Snape had been _so_ angry that day. Harry had never seen his professor that mad, and that was saying something.

The professor caught Harry looking wearily at the pensieve. "Reliving fond memories are we, Potter?" he asked with a dangerous look.

"N-no sir," Harry faltered.

The corners of Snape's mouth twisted upward ever so slightly at the boys obvious stammering.

Harry inwardly cursed himself. The man was so much more intimidating when you were locked in a dark dungeon with him.

The young boy watched as his professor took a couple vials of some sort of potion out of his robes and placed them neatly onto a shelf. The man then headed toward his desk, sitting down and beckoning Harry to do so as well.

They sat across from each other, the professor smoothing out his shirt before locking eyes with the young boy. Now that he was alone with Harry, and only a few feet away, he began looking the boy over. Even from the distance between them in the Great Hall, he could tell that something was off. Now he could see just how bad Harry looked, worse than he usually did during the first week of school. He was thin, too thin, that much was obvious. His face was pale, almost sickly, and his eyes betrayed him worst of all. All Snape had to do was look Harry in the eyes to tell exactly what the boy was thinking and feeling. He was exhausted, and very depressed. Snape sat up straighter as he observed this. It wasn't his job to be the boy's psychiatrist; he had something of importance to discuss.

"It seems," the potions professor began with a look of indifference, "that I am to resume Occlumency lessons with you."

Harry couldn't stop his jaw from dropping in horror. "What?"

Snape folded his hands on his desk, his long, dark hair falling over his face as he leaned forward ever so slightly. "Professor Dumbledore, a-and I," Snape choked out, "feel it would be best for us to resume the skill what with the... _promise_ of the Dark Lord's return."

"But-but sir?" Harry began in disbelief. "You remember what happened last time?-"

"Of _course_ I remember, Potter," the professor growled.

Harry tensed in his chair at the anger in Snape's voice.

"As long as you resist the urge to snoop around my belongings," Snape gestured pointedly to the pensieve, "and actually commit yourself to practicing this time, I don't see the two of us having any problems. Am I understood?"

Harry nodded quickly.

Snape leaned back into his chair, crossing his arms as his face relaxed.

"Do you have anything you'd like to add?" he questioned coolly.

"_Yeah, this is bloody ridiculous_," Harry thought to himself as he scowled. "When do we start, sir?"

Snape stood from his seat, gazing down at the boy who always did his best to put on a brave face. "No time like the present."

Harry's brave face evaporated. "Bloody hell," he mumbled, slumping into his seat.

To be continued…


	3. Now my dreams

Chapter 3: And now my dreams, are nothing like they were meant to be

Harry was thinking how absurd this whole situation was as he looked around the office. He just arrived at Hogwarts a few hours ago! And already he'd found out about the _quality_ time he'll be forced to spend with Snape. Starting right now no less! It really was quite unfair. He wanted to be hanging out with Ron and Hermione in the common room, making light of his summer by joking about how dumb the Dursleys were. Not reliving the actual horror of it through Occlumency!

Professor Snape walked around his desk, giving Harry a look that told him he'd better stand up.

Wincing ever so slightly as his back protested the movement, the young boy thought he'd try to appeal to his superior's good nature.

Harry just about laughed out loud at that idea.

"_Good_ _nature, really, I must be exhausted_," he thought to himself.

After a few moments of considering just how worn out he was, he figured it was worth a try. The worst that could happen would be getting yelled at.

"Professor Snape," he began carefully. He had to do his best not to sound like he was complaining or being disrespectful.

Snape crossed his arms. He was expecting the boy to protest at some point. "Yes?"

"Well, it's just that it's been a really long day, and school hasn't technically even started yet…"

Harry trailed off as Snape gave him a thoughtful expression.

"Go on," the professor said silkily.

Harry breathed in deeply, before blurting out everything quickly in one breath. "I was thinking that since tonight's usually a big party where we all get to have fun before there's any homework that I could maybe go join my friends and relax before school starts tomorrow."

Snape began nodding, his hand coming to his chin as he began to think to himself. "So, you want to go have fun with your friends? Well, that's certainly understandable. You're too tired tonight to practice Occlumency, how ridiculous of me to have thought otherwise…" Snape trailed off, his words coming out so thickly and full of artificial sweetness they were like honey.

Harry tensed. His professor was being uncharacteristically _nice_, and _understanding_. Something was wrong.

Suddenly, Snape's voice and demeanor changed, and it sent a jolt through Harry.

"Tell me, Mr. Potter, don't you think that _I_ have better things to do with my time? Don't you think that _I_ might be tired, and possibly need to rest?"

Harry swallowed as he leaned back, the professor moving closer with each sentence. "Y-yes, sir."

Snape continued, his face mere inches from Harry's now. "And tell me, is the Dark Lord going to take it easy on you because you were too tired to practice?"

"No, sir, no I don't think he will."

"Do you think he'll want to join in on your little party with your friends?"

"No professor, he won't."

Snape continued to glare into Harry, the young boy pinned against the wall with his professor looming over him. The professor sighed as he backed away, returning to his seat and leaning on his desk with his head in his hands.

"It is exact moments like these," Snape began delicately, "that the Dark Lord will take advantage of. When you are tired and at your weakest." He breathed deeply, his fingers intertwining as he met Harry's gaze again. "You may not think it, but I am doing this for your own good."

Despite Snape's attempt to be civil with the boy, Harry could feel his anger toward the man flaring up once again.

"For my own good? When has anything _you've_ done been for _my_ good?"

Harry could feel his heart beating faster, his resentment being fueled more so at the expressionless face his professor answered him with. He wasn't sure why he was feeling so angry all of the sudden, but he was pretty sure it had something to do with his extreme exhaustion, and his bottled up emotions from the summer. He was through trying to be nice to the man he had resented for so long, especially these last few months.

As Snape had yet to respond, Harry continued.

"You've made every day for me here a living hell, and for what? For some stupid school boy memory that you've hidden away all these years-"

"Potter."

Snape's voice was dangerous, his expression worse as he rose from his seat.

"You think maybe you could start calling me Harry? I'm not my father, you know. Unless that makes it easier for you to hate me."

Snape could not help but be taken aback at these harsh words. His face showed no sign of his surprise though, as he continued looking at the fuming boy levelly.

"Dislike you intensely, most definitely. Hate, however, is a very strong word. What makes you think such a thing?"

Harry scoffed in disbelief. "Only every word you've ever said to me, s_ir_."

Snape nodded slowly, his gaze piercing. "Maybe, but even someone with such clouded judgment as yours surely would know that sometimes actions speak louder than words," Snape finished coolly.

Harry knew that Snape was talking about the numerous times he had helped the young boy when he was in danger. As well as the times he very well saved his life. But he was too angry right now. He wouldn't give his professor the satisfaction of thanking him.

"Actions, what actions? You mean like letting Draco Malfoy do whatever he wants, making everyone's life he comes in contact with miserable?"

Professor Snape's mouth set into a thin line. He hated the charade he had to put on for Lucius Malfoy and his brat Draco. All because Snape was a spy and had to keep up the act of being a Death Eater. His life was full of twisted webs of lies that had to be balanced just so, in order for his purpose to not falter.

Harry continued, becoming even angrier at his professor's lack of yelling back. He hated being so angry when the other person seemed so indifferent, and he was planning on changing that.

"You know, for being so good at Occlumency, you really are blind to what's going on in the real world!"

Snape's cold stare regarded the younger man heavily. The professor folded his arms across his chest with a look that dared Harry to continue.

Harry accepted the challenge. "It is Malfoy, not me, that does the bullying and starts all the fights. But you would never notice because he's one of your precious Slytherins. Not to mention the fact that you kiss the ground his father walks on!"

"Enough." Snape's low and menacing tone cut the young Gryffindor off. "I do not have to explain my actions. Least of all to the likes of you," the professor spat.

Harry's brow furrowed in anger, his eyes flashing dangerously. "That's just fine. I'm out of here."

Snape's eyebrows shot up as he saw the boy begin to leave. A terrible feeling of guilt corrupted his stomach. This was something he did not feel often. He couldn't let the boy leave, not already. He had nearly failed protecting him last year. Would have failed if not for the chance encounter when Harry had told him what had been happening at the Ministry. He could not make that mistake again.

As Harry opened the door to leave, Snape shut it again with a wave of his wand.

Harry quickly opened it again and made two steps to exit. Snape was already on him though, grabbing the back of his robes and yanking the boy back into his office. There was a loud ripping noise as the force of the grabbing and pulling had torn not only Harry's robe, but the shirt beneath it as well.

Releasing Harry roughly, the professor put himself between the boy and the door. With another wave of his wand, the door shut once more. Then there was a loud clicking noise, signifying it had been locked.

Harry gave his professor a look of death. "Open it," he panted, out of breath from their brief struggle.

"No." Snape watched the boy carefully, inwardly confused by the fatigue such a small resistance on Harry's part had caused.

Harry's face was full of annoyance as he whipped out his wand and side-stepped the professor to aim at the door. "Alohom-"

"Expelliarmus!" Snape was too quick for Harry's lock breaking spell. The young boy's wand flew from his hand, landing on the other side of the room. "Young Mr. Potter," Snape tried to keep his voice calm, "perhaps this time words will speak louder than my actions. You are not leaving this room until you have practiced Occlumency for at least one hour."

Harry huffed, his fists clenching at his sides.

"Seeing as how you've already been here for quite some time and we have yet to accomplish _anything_," the professor paused, "let's use the rest of our time wisely, shall we?"

Harry was beside himself with anger. He couldn't remember feeling this mad in a long time. Sure, he had probably gotten just as angry a couple hundred times over the summer with the Dursleys, but this was different. He was at Hogwarts now. He was supposed to be free of being locked in closed spaces. Not cemented into a secluded room with Professor Snape for hours on end.

Deciding he had better get it over with, he turned to retrieve his wand from across the room. His walking ceased as he heard a sharp intake of breath from his professor.

Harry paused, suddenly all too aware of the cool draft he could feel skidding across his revealed back. His eyes closed tightly, terror seeping through him as he realized what his professor had seen underneath his torn clothes. Deciding there was nothing else for it, he decided to play the role of indifference about the welts. It was an act he knew well, being so accustomed to doing it at Number 4, Privet Drive. He continued walking toward his wand. After he picked it up, he turned to face Professor Snape; making his face blank in an attempt to pretend that nothing was actually wrong. If he was guessing correctly, as long as he pretended it was no big deal, the professor would be glad to let him on his way. He was banking on the professor not wanting to deal with this at all.

When Harry finally met Snape's eyes, however, he realized his plan may not be as easy as all that. His professor's face, as usual, held no expression. But his eyes were wide with shock, and dark with anger. And there was one more emotion, but Harry couldn't quite make it out. Was it concern? No, there was no way. This was Professor Snape, after all.

"Mr. Potter." Snape made his voice as calm as possible, which was not an easy task given how angry he was feeling at the obvious mistreatment of the young boy.

Harry already began to lose his nerve under the weight of his professor's stare, and the fact that he wasn't yelling at him. His hands bunched nervously at his side, waiting for the other man to continue.

"Kindly explain to me what, _exactly_, happened to you?"

Harry looked down. He was having trouble dealing with the uncharacteristically worried tone of his professor. "I-I don't remember sir," Harry mumbled lamely.

Snape was becoming angrier now, much angrier. His jaw set into a firm line as he took a step closer to the boy. "You of all people would know, Potter, that I do not tolerate lying. Now, I will give you one more chance to tell me what happened of your own free will."

Harry's head shot up at those last words. "_Of my own free will?"_ he thought nervously to himself. "You wouldn't," he stated bravely to his professor.

Snape took another step closer to Harry, using his full height to loom over the boy hoping to intimidate the answer out of him. "Try me," he came back quietly.

Harry bowed his head again, shutting his eyes tightly as he began to shake his head.

The professor sighed deeply. "You leave me no choice then. Legilimens!"

Snape had performed the spell so quickly, that Harry had virtually no time to react. Before he knew what was happening, he felt an overcoming sense of dizziness as memories flooded his brain.

/His cousin Dudley punching him in the stomach when his parents weren't looking. Aunt Petunia backhanding him across the face. Uncle Vernon shouting at him until his face was a deep purple. Harry being thrown into his room and having all seven locks on the outside being bolted. Harry standing against the wall as his uncle pelted him over and over with a rubber belt./

Harry snapped back to reality so suddenly, his arms flailed uncontrollably as he fell backwards. He landed roughly on the hard, stone floor, causing the wind to be knocked out of him.

Snape eyed the boy warily, more than disturbed by the memories he just witnessed. He truly had no idea as to the best way to go about this. He leaned over and gripped the boy's forearms rougher then what was necessary, and plopped the boy into a nearby chair.

Panting and trying to overcome the intense feeling of nausea, Harry put his face in his hands. It wasn't until several moments later when he realized that there was now a strong grip on his shoulder. Looking up wearily, he could just make out the face of his professor staring back at him.

Harry ignored the intense expression his professor had as anger began welling up inside of him yet again.

"How did you do that?" he shouted angrily as he shot up out of his seat. The young boy felt another wave of dizziness come over him at the quick movement, but he did his best to ignore it. "How did you make me relive exactly what you wanted to see?"

Harry was breathing heavily. He was so embarrassed. No one was supposed to ever see that, no one. He could just imagine Snape telling all his Slytherins about the "famous Harry Potter" being beaten by his uncle and doing nothing to defend himself.

Snape shook his head slowly, his eyes closing as he frowned. "Wanted to see? I think you should choose your words more carefully. Why would I ever have wanted to see _that_?"

"Oh, I don't know!" Harry shouted angrily, "maybe for something else you can make fun of me for!"

Snape suddenly lashed out, his hands gripping Harry's forearms tightly once again as he brought the boy close to his face. "It's not fun is it?" Snape's words came out seething. "It's not fun when someone sees something that you yourself don't even like to think about?"

Harry nodded slowly in response, holding his gaze steady with the professor's. He knew exactly what Snape was talking about, but he was still angry. He then tried to free himself, but his professor just gripped him tighter.

"Now, what I want is for you to calm down, Mr. Potter." The dark-robed man's voice softened, his angry face relaxing as well. "Know in confidence, that I Would. Not. Ever. Tell my students, or anyone else with no business knowing, about what has happened to you."

Harry's eyes widened at the sincerity of the professor's words.

Snape let go of his arms then, backing away from the boy but still holding his gaze. "Do not look so shocked, Potter. I may be a bit off color, but I am not a monster."

Harry could not help but lower his head at the shame he felt. He didn't really think that Snape would make fun of him about something like this, did he? He wasn't sure. He wasn't sure about a lot of things anymore.

It was when Snape spoke again that brought Harry out of his thoughts. "I will go alert Madam Pomfrey that you are headed up to her wing for treatment."

"Professor Snape, please…"

Snape stopped mid-step at the pleading in Harry's voice. He turned around with an eyebrow raised quizzically.

"I don't want her to know. I don't want anyone else to know."

Snape sighed deeply. "I understand that, Potter, but-"

"Excuse me, sir, but you don't understand."

Harry looked at Snape nervously.

"If I go to the hospital wing, the whole school will know about this by tomorrow. And then everyone will be stepping on eggshells around me, just like last year. I finally got people to act normal around me again and it would all be ruined. Everyone would say 'Oh, there goes Harry Potter. How is he supposed to help us defeat Voldemort when he can't even defend himself from his own family?'"

"Mr. Potter you-"

"And you just promised you wouldn't tell anyone!" Harry cut in desperately.

Snape sighed again, this time in frustration. "I said I would not tell anyone who has no business knowing. Madam Pomfrey and Professor Dumbledore must be told in order-"

"You can't tell Dumbledore!" Harry shouted, his eyes widened in fear.

"Potter!"

Harry jumped at the annoyance in Snape's voice.

"You will _not_ interrupt me again, is that clear?"

Harry's eyebrows furrowed as he reluctantly nodded.

"I must tell the Headmaster about what has happened to you, no questions asked. It is… _blatantly_ apparent that you will not be heading back to that house next summer. Professor Dumbledore will have to make other arrangements."

"I don't want to be a burden," Harry mumbled.

Snape was astonished. This boy was being assaulted on a daily basis and wished to endure it in order to not be a _burden_?

"I assure you, it is no burden. The Headmaster will not allow this abuse to occur any longer. And as for your healing, you must see Madam Pomfrey and I'm not to hear any arguments from you. Do you understand?"

Harry was once again fuming. His fists were clenching at his sides. "Yes, sir," he managed to spit out through gritted teeth.

Snape raised an eyebrow at the young boy. "Really, Potter, you'd think I had just sentenced you to a year of detention."

"_I would rather do that_," Harry thought to himself.

After receiving no argument, Snape turned and began walking to the fireplace.

"We will talk to Professor Dumbledore first, and then you will see Madam Pomfrey."

Harry began walking toward Snape, his anger receding a bit. He had the chance of talking Dumbledore out of making him see Madam Pomfrey, then none of his classmates would be the wiser. At least he had that hope to cling to.

Suddenly, he felt a hand on his chest, stopping his movement and his thoughts.

"Where is it you think you are going?"

Harry looked up at his professor with confusion. "Weren't we heading to Dumbledore's office?"

Snape looked at Harry levelly. "_Professor_ Dumbledore. And no, _we_ aren't going anywhere. I am bringing the professor back here. I won't have you traveling with me and possibly reopening your wounds."

Harry looked at his professor with surprise. Was Snape actually taking special measures to care for him?

An uncomfortable expression washed over the professor's face suddenly. "As if I need additional injuries to the Golden Boy while under my watch," Snape added quickly.

Then, with a huff, the professor threw powder into the fireplace, declaring his destination.

He was gone in a puff of smoke, leaving Harry alone to contemplate just what that last exchange of theirs had meant.

To be continued…


	4. I think I'm breaking down

Chapter 4: And I'm breaking down, I think I'm breaking down

Headmaster Dumbledore's face held an expression of deep sorrow at Severus Snape's news. He began pacing back and forth, his lips moving as he walked, but there was no sound coming from his mouth.

Snape crossed his arms as he watched Dumbledore pace, trying to keep his expression neutral.

After about five minutes of waiting, Snape began thinking out loud.

"He will have to be moved elsewhere, staying with that wretched family does not seem a wise decision."

Dumbledore continued to pace. "That is more difficult done then said, Severus. The boy is protected there…"

"Only from the outside, not from the abuse he endures from within those walls."

Albus Dumbledore nodded in agreement, his mouth set in a firm line as he stopped his pacing. "I will have to think of something else then. Luckily, time is on our side. Harry will not have to worry about returning there until the end of the school year."

Snape nodded as Dumbledore paused. When he spoke again, Snape's next question was answered.

"I don't think I will accompany you to your office. I daresay that Harry has had enough of an audience what with you finding out about this unfortunate, and unforgiving, situation."

Severus smirked at the statement. The boy was certainly embarrassed enough, especially since it was Snape that found out. He then recalled the actual situation that made Harry embarrassed, and his face sobered. He suddenly felt that annoying pang of guilt nagging at him. The boy needed to be cared for.

"Shall I have Potter go up to Madam Pomfrey, then?"

Dumbledore shook his head. "I'm afraid I sent Poppy out on an errand this evening, and she won't return for another hour or so."

Snape's face expressed his confusion. "Headmaster, you cannot think it wise to let the boy go without treatment?"

Dumbledore's eyes glinted mischievously under his half-moon spectacles. He then handed Snape a jar of healing cream after conjuring it out of thin air.

Severus could not help but close his eyes in frustration. "Fine, I will give Potter the jar and send him on his way. But I still think he should receive professional treatment. You did not see his wounds, Albus. I feel they will require more attention than having the boy attempt to apply this by himself."

The sides of Dumbledore's mouth twitched, almost as if he was trying to hide a smile. "Oh no, he will be receiving treatment, Severus, just not from Madam Pomfrey."

Snape's eyes narrowed as he looked between the jar in his hands and the small smile that now graced Dumbledore's face.

"I am _not_ the boy's nursemaid," Professor Snape hissed.

"You said it yourself, Severus, the boy needs professional treatment."

Dumbledore clasped his hands together as if the conversation were over, before heading to his desk.

Snape couldn't help but scowl as Dumbledore turned away.

Once the Headmaster was seated, his eyes rose to regard Snape once again.

"After Poppy it is you, my friend, who's healing skills I trust the most. And, I'm afraid…" Dumbledore trailed off as his face expressed a deep sadness. "I'm afraid that Harry will have a most difficult year again, and I don't need the entire school knowing of his situation adding to the weight on his shoulders."

Snape nodded slowly, despite the argument that sat at the tip of his tongue. It was almost as if Dumbledore had read the boy's mind. He knew that this was the Headmaster's final say, and one did not argue with Albus Dumbledore. Seething on the inside, Snape's dark robes twisted around him as he turned quickly and began heading toward the fireplace.

Dumbledore's voice sounded from behind him, his tone regretful. "Do tell Harry that I am sorry I could not come see him personally."

With a nod, Snape disappeared in a wash of emerald green flames, leaving Dumbledore to smile sadly as he returned to his reading.

* * *

Within a matter of five minutes, Snape reappeared in the fireplace. His expression held a look of annoyance as he walked by Harry and set the jar on his desk.

Harry observed his professor with confusion, as Snape had yet to say a word. He watched as his professor sat himself on a stool and began unbuttoning the cuffs on the sleeves of his black, button-down shirt.

"Um, excuse me, sir?"

Snape raised his eyebrows as though waiting for the boy to continue, but did not look up. He began to roll up the white sleeves of his undershirt now, over the unbuttoned black ones.

Harry licked his lips nervously before continuing. "Professor, where is Dumbledore?"

Snape sighed exasperatedly as he finally met Harry's eyes. "_Professor_ Dumbledore will not be coming to see you tonight. He has other matters of importance he must attend to," he stated nonchalantly as he finished rolling up his sleeves.

A disappointed expression crossed Harry's features as he looked away.

Snape looked at Harry levelly. "He sends his apologies."

"Oh, okay," the young boy replied slowly.

Harry was downtrodden. Now he had no way of talking Dumbledore out of making him head to the hospital wing. Not only that, but it seemed the Headmaster wasn't very concerned about his injuries. Not that Harry had wanted more people to see him like this, but the thought that Dumbledore couldn't even spare a minute made him feel… hurt.

Snape watched as the boy stared at his hands.

"Should I go up and see Madam Pomfrey now?" Harry asked quietly.

Snape rolled his eyes. "Really, Potter. Put two and two together, will you?"

Harry met his professor's eyes, his own face a mask of confusion.

Snape blew out an irritated breath, shaking his head. "Here I am with my sleeves rolled up and a jar of healing cream conveniently sitting next to me, and there you are with about a half a dozen painful welts on your back."

An embarrassed flush covered Harry's cheeks. "You? I mean to say- you're going to-? But do you really want-? I don't think…"

"Well, that much is obvious," Snape came back.

Harry narrowed his eyes at the insult.

The professor closed his eyes as he began to rub his temples in small circles. "This will be a lot less painful for both of us if you silence your ramblings, remove your robes and shirt, and sit down."

Harry nodded in defeat and removed his torn clothing. Then slowly, as if facing a death sentence, he walked to the stool in front of Snape and sat down.

Snape couldn't help but smirk as he looked Harry in the eyes. "_Turn around_, Potter."

With another flush of embarrassment, Harry nodded as he turned his body on the stool. "Right. Um… sorry," he added lamely.

"Honestly," Snape mumbled under his breath as he opened the jar of healing cream.

The professor lifted his hand to begin applying the cream when his jaw dropped at the site of Harry's back. It had looked bad before, but up close it was… unspeakable. The welts were deep, and many of them had drawn blood. There were deep purple bruises around each wound, and quite a few were discolored in an almost alien way.

Snape knew what this discoloring meant, and as he began to rub the cream on with as much gentleness as he could, he decided to ask Harry a few questions. He also wanted to help clear the air of its current heavy, and uncomfortable, weight.

"Did you clean these cuts adequately?"

Harry shifted with unease at the accusing tone. "N-no sir. I don't like to inspect them, it always makes it hurt more," he added quickly.

"Always?" Snape asked quietly.

Harry's eyes closed tightly at the realization of his idiotic choice of words. "Yes, sir, you saw it for yourself."

Snape shook his head, his eyes closing as he tried to ebb the anger he felt welling up inside. Foolish, moronic, brainless muggle bastards! All this time they were doing this to the boy, and no one had ever noticed? He was furious. Furious at those damn muggles for doing this, furious at the boy for never saying anything, but he was most furious with himself. But wait, why should he be furious with himself? He did nothing wrong. Sure the boy was in his class for five years, he saw him practically every day and never noticed anything wrong… but that wasn't his problem.

Snape began to feel a surge of guilt again, and he hated the fact that within the last hour, he was becoming more used to this feeling.

Harry spoke then, his voice small. "I can't, I mean- I've tried to figure out all these years what I had done to deserve it. I haven't figured it out… but, but there must be _some_ reason…"

Harry trailed off, and Professor Snape gaped in disgust at the boy's words.

"Potter," Snape began in a dangerous tone, "there is _nothing_ you could have done to deserve this kind of treatment."

Harry closed his eyes tightly; the familiar prickling of what should be tears stirring at the corners under his eyelids. At the sudden realization of what he was doing, Harry tried to snap himself out of his pity party. What was he doing admitting his deepest darkest thoughts? And to Professor Snape! But there was something about the situation. Something about how gentle and caring the man was being toward Harry. Well, as gentle and caring as Snape _could_ be anyway. It made him think of Sirius, made him think of having a parental figure care for him. In his tired mind he felt he could suddenly admit anything to the man who was being so kind…

"But there must be _something_," Harry continued almost deliriously, "why would they be so angry towards me if there weren't?"

Severus blew out a controlled breath. He hadn't felt this angry about anything in a long time. "It is the fact that you exist that angers them, Potter!"

Harry's emerald eyes widened, a memory from last term when he looked into the pensieve coming back to him.

/"Leave him alone. What's he done to you?"

"Well, it's more the fact that he _exists_, if you know what I mean…"/

Harry chewed on his lip guiltily. He didn't like the fact that his brain just made a correlation between how the Dursleys treat him and how his father treated Snape. His father was not like the Dursleys. His father grew out of his bullying. Harry then realized that his brain had also combined himself and Professor Snape into the same category. He tried to shake these thoughts from himself, as they were only causing him more grief.

Something else occurred to the young boy then, another question he had that would take his mind off of his current thoughts.

"Professor Snape?"

"Hm?"

Harry paused at the annoyed grunt his professor had answered him with. Biting his lip in determination, he continued on with his question.

"I was just wondering, how _did_ you see the exact memory of mine that you were looking for?"

The professor stopped his ministrations only for a moment, and then continued his work as he answered.

"Because at that moment, it was the one thing you did not want me to see. Therefore, when I performed Legilimency without you being ready for it, it was at the forefront of your mind."

Harry nodded sheepishly.

Even from the back, Snape could tell the young boy was embarrassed.

"Had you actually took it upon yourself to practice last year," the professor continued knowingly, "you would have been able to ward me off. I never would have seen what abuse you have endured."

Harry's shoulders tensed at this, and Snape cursed himself for insulting the boy when he was so vulnerable. He then slowly moved himself so that he was sitting in front of the teenager.

"Mr. Potter."

The strictness of the professor's tone commanded Harry's attention.

"There may be occurrences in your life that you wish me to see no more than you would the Dark Lord," Snape paused, taking a deep breath and when he spoke again, his tone was softer. "But I at least, am on _your_ side."

Harry held Snape's softened gaze, he could see the exhaustion the professor was usually so good at hiding.

There had been plenty of times when Harry had no idea whose side Snape was really on, despite Dumbledore's constant faith in the wizard. But something about the way his professor had just declared his loyalty, and the look on his face, made Harry really want to believe him.

As the professor continued to apply the salve with a gentleness Harry didn't think was possible from the man, the young boy could feel the tension in his shoulders start to fade. Now that the awkwardness level had lowered quite a bit, he couldn't help but feel his tiredness cover him like a thick blanket. He was _exhausted_. His head began to loll as his eyelids became heavy, so heavy…

There was a loud screeching noise as the stool skidded to the side, being propelled from the force of Harry falling in the opposite direction. There was then an immediate shatter as Snape dropped the jar of cream to grab Harry by the arm.

"Potter!" Snape shouted as he pulled the boy back on his feet.

Harry tried to shake the dizziness from his head. He was having a hard time focusing on Snape when there were so many of him spinning around.

"Stop moving so much," Harry mumbled almost incoherently.

Snape's grip tightened around Harry as he looked at the boy with concern. He then guided the boy to the chair behind his desk and sat him down. Making sure Harry wasn't going to pass out on him again, he let go of the teenager.

"Stay here and don't even think about moving. I'll return shortly."

Harry nodded drunkenly, he felt so lightheaded. Resting his chin in the palm of his hand, he waited for the professor's return with his eyes closed.

The professor came back with two vials of potion. He handed Harry the smaller one first.

"Drink this, it will help with the dizziness."

Harry nodded as he took the vial. He downed the atrocious tasting fluid in three gulps. A look of disgust crossed his features. "Tastes like the vomit kind of Every Flavor Bean…" he trailed off as he handed the empty vial back to Snape.

The older man snatched the vial quickly, a look of loathing on his face.

"Erm, sorry professor. I mean, thank you. I uh-I feel better already," Harry added sheepishly.

"Good. Think you can manage to walk on your own back to your tower?" Snape's voice wasn't concerned this time, but laced with sarcasm.

"Um, yeah, I think so…" Harry said slowly.

"Okay then. Get out."

Snape walked over to the door and opened it. He stood with an impatient look on his face as Harry slowly got out of his seat.

Harry felt awful. Snape had been so… so un-Snape, and he had to go and insult the man and make everything go back to normal. He had to fix this. He grabbed his robe and shirt off a nearby chair and began approaching the older wizard.

"Professor? I'm sorry about what I said. I really appreciate what you did, really."

As if Harry hadn't apologized, or said anything at all for that matter, Snape ushered him out the door. He then handed him another vial.

"Take half of this tonight and the other half tomorrow. It's to clear up the infection that has occurred on some of your wounds," he added at Harry's questioning look.

Harry took the vial into his hands, turning it over before looking back up at Snape. "Sir?" he asked with a look that still showed his guilt.

Snape rolled his eyes as he sighed. "Really, Potter. Don't you think I've heard worse things about my work then 'it tastes like vomit'?"

Harry couldn't stop the snort of laughter that came out. "I'm sure you have, sir."

Snape gave Harry a stern look, with the tiniest almost invisible hint of a smile on his usually forlorn lips. "Goodnight, Potter."

The door was then shut in Harry's face, and the Boy-Who-Lived decided he had better put his clothes back on before heading up to Gryffindor Tower. Upon inspection of his garments, Harry found that the tears had been repaired, and the clothing looked as though it were brand new. "_When did he do this?_" he asked himself. What was even more amazing was the fact that Snape had taken it upon himself to mend the clothing in the first place, and Harry couldn't help but smile to himself as he began his trek out of the dungeons.

To be continued...


	5. I'm afraid

Chapter 5: I'm afraid, to sleep because of what haunts me

As the first signs of dawn crept through the windows, Harry lay wide-awake in his bed. The sunlight was always a welcome sign after such long nights. The young boy thought for a moment about which would be better; sleeping for a few hours but having that supposed time of peace overcome with horrific nightmares, or not sleeping at all. Today he would take not sleeping, because he was so tired of dreaming. He glanced around the room, for probably the four hundredth time, at his sleeping friends. He could not deny how jealous he was. They would wake up today, be well rested, and not have a care in the world, other than _typical_ teenager woes.

Harry wished he could be a typical teenager.

The Boy-Who-Lived sighed deeply, it was almost time to start moving. To start going through his day the best he could with his most convincing game-face on. So far, Professors Snape and Dumbledore were the only ones wise to his situation, and he was going to keep it that way. When he had returned to the Gryffindor common room last night, all of his friends had already gone to bed. He was rather thankful for this, as he was far too tired to have to explain everything in detail to his two best friends. However, he would have to face that music today, and he was not any less tired this morning.

* * *

Harry was one of the first to arrive in the Great Hall for breakfast that morning. He was drinking tea and trying to get some food into him, hoping it would give him more energy, when Ron and Hermione sat down across the table.

Harry looked up to see two pairs of wide and concerned eyes staring back at him.

"Blimey, Harry! What happened to you last night?" Ron asked incredulously.

"Ron told me that Professor Snape cornered you two and that you didn't get back to the common room until late," Hermione added.

"He's right," Harry answered after swallowing some scrambled eggs, "I had to spend my first evening back at school with Snape. Jealous?"

His two friends gave him a sympathetic look.

"Well, what happened then?" Hermione questioned further. "Why did Snape want to see you?"

"It turns out; he wants to take up Occlu- er… _Remedial Potions_ lessons with me again," Harry answered before shoving another forkful of eggs into his mouth.

Ron's eyebrows raised in surprise. "_Snape_ wants to? Spend more time with you, that is?"

Harry shook his head. "I'm about one hundred percent positive that Dumbledore is making him. What with Voldemo-"

"HARRY!" Ron and Hermione bellowed.

"You-Know-Who, then," Harry grumbled. "You-Know-Who being back and all… well, now that everyone believes me," he added spitefully.

"We always believed you," Hermione said quietly.

Harry gave her a small smile. "I know you guys did."

It was then that a young Slytherin that Harry didn't recognize walked up to him holding an envelope.

"Harry Potter?" the young boy questioned.

Harry nodded and the boy handed him the letter.

"This is from Professor Snape."

The young boy, probably a first year, had a proud look on his face as if delivering Snape's mail was one of the highest honors one could acquire.

"Thanks kid," Harry mumbled as the young boy walked away.

The Boy-Who-Lived reluctantly tore open the envelope, and began reading the letter. It only took a moment, as it was very short and to the point.

"Well, what does he want?" Ron asked while trying to glimpse the letter for himself.

Harry sighed deeply. "He wants to meet me every night this week for Occlumency lessons."

Ron's face fell.

"Well, hey," Hermione came in brightly, "better now than when Quidditch season starts!"

"Really, Hermione? _You_ spend every night with Snape then," Ron muttered while rolling his eyes.

"He actually hasn't been so bad," Harry mumbled before he realized it came out of his mouth.

"What?" Ron asked incredulously.

"As bad," Harry answered quickly.

At the look of utter surprise from his friends, Harry got out of seat and began talking quickly about how he had to get going. As he began leaving the Great Hall, he was stopped by a hand on his shoulder.

"Harry, wait."

He turned around to see the concerned look of Hermione gazing back at him.

"I've really got to get going," he said hurriedly.

"I know, but wait just one second." Hermione's voice became quieter, almost a whisper as she continued. "I know you don't like talking about your summers with Ron and I, but… don't take this the wrong way, but you look _awful_, Harry. Ron and I are worried about you."

Harry couldn't help but feel two contradicting emotions at the same time; guilt for making his friends worry and happiness because he actually had friends who worried for him. It was a confusing feeling, but one that had happened before since he had made real friends. Ron and Hermione had no idea that Harry was enduring physical punishments with the Dursleys. He didn't want them to know. They would have gone straight to Dumbledore if they found out. Not that it mattered anymore, since Dumbledore was now wise to the situation. All Ron and Hermione knew was that the Dursleys made him perform all day physical labor and that he received very little sustenance as a reward. Well, they also knew about his lack of sleep and his nightmares, but they thought that it was due to Voldemort and his loss of Sirius. Which was true, but it was not the whole truth.

Harry looked at Hermione apologetically. "Don't worry about me; I just haven't been getting any sleep lately."

His bushy-haired friend looked at him levelly, as though she didn't entirely believe him.

"You know how it is," Harry continued quietly, "once the term gets going I'll be so busy with schoolwork that I'll be too tired not to sleep. That's how it always goes, Hermione."

His friend nodded knowingly, then, with a reluctant look, she went on. "Well, if you're sure Harry. But you know you can tell Ron and I anything. We're here for you."

Harry flashed his friend a smile. "I know that. But what's to tell? See ya later, Hermione."

Harry turned around and began making his way to the exit again. He could hear his friend say goodbye distantly, but he was already thinking about several pressing issues on his mind. Lack of sleeping was one of them, but Occlumency with Snape for four more nights in a row was his main cause of concern. Even if Snape had been, well, not nice exactly, but not such a prat either. Harry doubted that would continue.

It was thinking of Snape that made Harry remember the second half of the potion he was supposed to take that morning. He had hidden it under his bed so as not to attract unwanted questions from his roommates about its contents, which was why he forgot about it. He then told himself that in his break between classes later that day he would return to Gryffindor tower and be sure to drink the rest of it.

However, as the day went on and more and more tasks were assigned to him, he never had time to head to his room.

* * *

"Legilimens!"

/A seven-year-old Harry sat in his cupboard, nursing a large gash on his arm while uncle Vernon yelled through the door. He was on a swing at the park when Dudley walked over and pushed him off, Vernon and Petunia laughed at him from a distance. Draco Malfoy purposefully knocking Harry off of his broom during a Quidditch match. Dolores Umbridge's toad-face sneering as Harry carved the words "I will not tell lies" over and over again into his hand./

Harry came back into the real world suddenly, gasping and panting as he clutched his chair tightly.

"You're not trying hard enough."

The cold, accusing tone of his professor brought Harry out of his reverie. He glared back up at the man and caught Snape glancing at the scars of written words on his hand. Severus' face twitched with annoyance, but whether it was at Umbridge or himself, Harry could not be sure.

Suddenly self conscious, Harry covered his hand before meeting his professor's eyes. "I _am_ trying."

"Yes, but not hard enough!" Snape bellowed, his stern features unwavering. "We've been here for nearly an hour and you have been unable to cloud even one memory."

Harry sighed deeply, his face dropping into his hands.

Snape stepped closer to the boy, looking down on him with his usual grimace. "You have been showing me the memories for which you carry the most emotion. If you cannot attempt to cloud them, then at least try thinking of something that doesn't matter!"

Harry looked up quizzically at his professor, to which Snape rolled his eyes.

"Reading a book, taking a walk, eating dinner," Snape listed angrily. "Memories that hold no value Potter! If the memory is meaningless, the Dark Lord will get nothing out of them!"

"I understand professor but-"

"Good!" Snape interrupted, taking his wand out. "If you understand then let us try this again. Legilimens!"

As usual, Harry had no time to prepare before his thoughts were out in the open.

/Receiving his first letter from Hogwarts and realizing he was something special. Meeting the burly form of Hagrid and watching his cousin Dudley receive a pig's tail. Making friends with a bushy-haired girl and a red-headed boy on the Hogwarts Express. Flying into the air with ease, the wind whipping at his hair and robes the first time he rode a broom./

Harry came crashing back to reality yet again. He always felt weakened from the experience and he put his head between his legs to help calm the sudden nauseous feeling he acquired.

"You're not paying attention," Snape commented callously.

"I am!" Harry shouted back, his head still down.

Snape moved quickly to the boy, grabbing his robes and raising him to his feet. They now looked each other face to face.

"Then why am I still seeing a window into your soul?" Severus sneered.

Harry didn't have an exact answer for that, but thought of a retort anyway. "At least the memories were happy this time, that's something isn't it?"

Snape walked away, his hand combing through his hair in frustration. "Potter, happy memories are even worse!" He turned around to gaze back at the confused looking teenager. "If the Dark Lord can see what makes you happiest, rest assured he will do everything in his power to take those things away. He will then be able to weaken your already fragile mind."

Harry frowned at the insult. Deciding to let that one go, he confronted his professor about another issue. "How am I supposed to prepare myself with other memories or clouding my mind when you keep springing on me when I'm not ready?"

Snape looked up at the ceiling, his lips twisting in a way that made Harry think he was trying not to yell back. "We've been over this," he said slowly. "Do you think the Dark Lord is going to count to three before attacking you?"

Harry looked down at the embarrassment he felt. Not only from his stupid question, but the way Snape was addressing him as though he were an infant. It was then that a thought occurred to him. "I understand that, sir, but do you think we could try giving me some warning during practice? And then, if I can manage to perform with the warning, you can go back to pouncing on me when I'm not ready."

Snape mulled the idea over in his head. He did want the boy to succeed so as to be able to protect himself, but he couldn't deny the satisfaction he felt at the thought of the Golden Boy failing even _with_ warning.

"All right then, Potter, on the count of three then."

Harry became worried. Snape was actually agreeing? This meant he had better be able to perform or he'd really never hear the end of it.

"One…"

"_Something boring..._ _reading a book, reading a book!_" Harry thought desperately.

"Two…"

"_Um, uh, taking a shower! No wait! I'd be naked!_"

"Three! Legilimens!"

Luckily, none of Harry's memories included him in the nude, but they weren't any better than before.

/Seeing his mother and father in the reflection of the mirror of Erised. His conversation with Cedric Diggory about the singing egg during the Tri-Wizard Tournament. The last time he had hugged Sirius, the feeling of a parent figure being so comforting./

Harry came back gagging with the overwhelming feeling of nausea. His eyes were filled with invisible tears at that last memory. He missed Sirius so much. He felt Snape's hand on his shoulder as he continued coughing.

Snape had a feeling the evening lesson would be over. The boy did not look well. He wasn't sure why the next string of words came out of his mouth, perhaps to get a rise out of the boy who was, at the moment, looking so feeble. "Black always was a bit foolish, wasn't he?"

At these words, Harry's head shot up and his face held a furious expression. He roughly pushed Snape's hand off of him as he stood.

"YOU DON'T TALK ABOUT HIM!" Harry had shouted it so loud, his throat felt raw from the force.

Snape held his stance, his eyebrows narrowing in his own anger. "Careful, Potter," he came back dangerously.

Harry ignored the warning as his temper flared. "You didn't care about him and you don't care what he meant to me! It's because of you that he's dead! Making him feel bad about not being able to help us, that's the reason he came to the ministry that night! You hated him! You wanted him to die!"

Harry hadn't meant to say that. He had never intended to voice the accusation he felt toward Snape regarding his godfather. He was lost now, lost in a world of anger, hurt, confusion and emotion that he had not yet shown for the passing of Sirius. His eyes wanted to let out a river of tears, but he would not let that happen. Not here, not in front of Snape, not ever.

Snape stood back, the display of an obviously distraught Harry Potter playing out in front of him. He had not meant for his words to cause _this_. He just wanted to irk the boy a bit, not cause all hell to break loose. And as for the accusation, the _ridiculous_ accusation, is that what the boy really thought? He must to be carrying on in such a way. Well, Severus was not going to stand for it. He would not be accused and shouted at like this.

"That's enough, Potter," he commanded.

Harry's face was screwed up as he refused to let his true, tearful emotions show.

"You can't tell me what to do!" Harry shouted back hatefully.

"Of course I can you impudent boy!" Snape had already had enough of this nonsense.

With a look of pure loathing, Harry began making his way to exit the room.

"_Good riddance_," Snape couldn't help but think at first. He then realized that if he let Harry leave, Albus would be less than thrilled and then he, Severus, would have much more of a mess to clean up the next day. Mustering up the strength this was going to take for him, physically and mentally, he threw himself after the boy and grabbed Harry by the wrist.

"Let go!" Harry shouted, turning to try and throw the professor off of him.

Severus' iron clad grip remained despite Harry's resistance. He was then able to seize the boys other wrist so that Harry could not turn away.

"Get off of me!" Harry continued to struggle against Snape.

Severus snarled. Squeezing Harry's wrists even tighter, he got the boy to stop squirming.

"You will listen to me and listen well!" Snape shouted at the boy in front of him. "I cannot let you leave here tonight thinking the things that you do!"

Harry's head lowered at this, and so did Snape's voice as he continued to hold the boy in place.

"I did not like Black, and the feeling was mutual. I will not pretend otherwise. But I did not, under any circumstances, wish him to die."

Harry lifted his head at the sincerity of Severus' words.

The young boy's eyes were red with emotion, and Snape swallowed at the look that the boy was giving him. The young Gryffindor truly did wear his heart on his sleeve.

"I realize what he meant to you," Snape continued, trying not to falter under the intensity of Harry's gaze. "My previous comment was… insensitive, and I was not thinking about how it might make you feel."

Harry nodded slowly, and Snape inwardly wished the boy would stop looking at him in that heart-breaking way. The professor felt he had to go on. He wasn't sure why, but the longing look on the boy's face was definitely part of it.

"Black cared for you just as much as you did for him. I imagine… that is why he came to your rescue. Believe me, he couldn't care less about what I may have said. We never put much stock into each other's words, or insults, for that matter."

Harry continued to nod, and Snape was glad to have gotten that off of his chest. Normally he couldn't care less what the boy thought of him. But right now, for some reason, he didn't want Harry to leave thinking that he hated Sirius, caused his death or any of the other horrible accusations aforementioned.

With shock, Snape realized that Harry was moving to lay his weary head onto the professor's chest. Clearing his throat, Snape tightened his grip on the boy and held him at arm's length away. He knew that Harry would only be embarrassed if he realized what he was doing, which he clearly did not because he was so exhausted. That's what Snape was telling himself anyway.

"I think then, that tonight's lesson has been concluded, Potter," Snape said uncomfortably.

Harry simply nodded again before his tired eyes rose and met the professor's.

"I'm sorry, about what I said. Accusing you…" the young boy trailed off. "I just, I needed someone to point the finger at. And blaming you was much easier than blaming myself."

The professor stood up a little straighter. Conflicting emotions were clouding his mind and he did not know what to make of them. On the one side, the mean professor side, he wanted to tell the boy to quit being so pathetic and emotional and pull himself together. But then there was that other, more nagging, side. One that was telling him to pull the dejected child into an embrace and comfort him. Snape was caught off guard by that last thought, almost disturbed by it. It was then that he decided to do neither of those things.

"You cannot lay the blame on yourself," Snape began slowly. "This is a war and, unfortunately, there will be casualties."

"Yeah, I guess you're right," Harry replied quietly.

Snape was pretty sure his words had meant nothing and that Harry would continue to blame himself. But that was not his problem right now. In fact, it wasn't his problem at all. So why, all of the sudden, was he feeling compelled to help the boy sort out his issues? Professor Snape was getting more and more confused. He decided it was definitely time for Potter to leave.

"Well then," he began awkwardly, "I will see you tomorrow evening, Potter."

He opened the door and ushered Harry out of the room.

"G'night sir," the boy mumbled as he left.

Snape quickly shut the door behind Harry, his mind continuing to race. Deciding that this was a case for some firewhiskey, the professor set about pouring himself a drink.

To be continued…


	6. Living with the uncertainty

Chapter 6: Such as living with the uncertainty, that I'll never find the words to say

Harry was the very first student to arrive in the Great Hall for breakfast the next morning. Deciding on pancakes, he piled them high onto his plate and poured a generous amount of thick, sweet syrup over them. His appetite was beginning to return, however, he still appeared too thin. It had only been a couple days since becoming well fed, and it usually took about a month for his healthy weight to return.

Chewing slowly, the Boy-Who-Lived thought about the dream he had awoken from early that morning. It was a strange dream, yet another where the entirety of it was a reply of the events from the previous evening. It was an exact play-by-play, that is, all except for the end. In the dream, Harry had arrived at Snape's office and tried, unsuccessfully, his hand at Occlumency, argued with the professor about Sirius (more like screamed at him), and then… and then he couldn't quite make sense of it. In the dream, he had almost hugged his professor. But surely that didn't really happen. Harry didn't remember that part from the day before. Had his exhausted mind put it in his dream to make him even more embarrassed? Or did it really happen yesterday and Harry's exhausted mind tried to make him forget?

Harry couldn't help but flush with humiliation as he groaned.

"_It did really happen, didn't it?_" the boy thought to himself. "_What is Snape thinking? I can't face him again after that. He'll never let me live that bit down. On the other hand… he's had a lot of things to press my buttons with, but it's not as though he's teased me about those. But on the other hand, those were all very serious things. My life at the Dursleys and Sirius' death aren't exactly things one jokes about. But on the other hand, he did try to get a rise out of me about Sirius… but, on the other- wait, how many hands have I got anyway?_"

"Harry?" a singsong voice called. A loud whistle came after it, which was then followed by "Hey! HARRY!"

The dark-haired teenager snapped out of his thoughts only to be met with the concerned look of his two best friends.

Harry smirked. He wondered if Ron and Hermione practiced that look, because they were getting very good at it.

"Sorry guys, I'm a bit out of it," Harry said sheepishly.

"I'll say," Ron came back.

"What were you thinking about?" Hermione chimed in casually.

"Last night's Occlumency lesson," replied Harry.

His friends leaned in closer.

"So, how did it go then?" asked Hermione.

Harry shrugged. "Pretty bad, I'd say. When you consider the fact that I made no progress, and then gave Snape a piece of my mind when he made a comment about Sirius."

Hermione gasped. "He didn't!"

Harry nodded again.

"What did he say?" Ron asked in disbelief.

"He called Sirius foolish or something like that. Which, isn't that far off, but coming from Snape and especially now when Sirius isn't… you know, around anymore…" Harry trailed off with a shrug.

Ron continued to gape. "So, what happened after you yelled at Snape? I'm surprised to see you sitting here right now, you know, alive and with all your limbs and everything."

Harry couldn't help but chuckle at Ron's genuine amazement. He then proceeded to tell his friends the whole story. The way Snape wouldn't let him leave and how he made sure to explain to Harry that he never wished for Sirius to die, no matter how much he may have disliked him.

His friends stared at him with wide eyes at first, and then a knowing smile spread across Hermione's lips.

"I knew it. I knew he wasn't all bad," she stated.

"Oh, come off it, Hermione," Ron argued. "He insulted Harry's dead godfather! And it's not as though he apologized for it."

"Actually…" Harry interjected slowly.

Ron turned to look at him, his face held a look of pure shock.

"Well, he kind of did," Harry spit out quickly. "As close to an apology Snape could actually get, anyway. Something along the lines of saying it was insensitive of him and that he shouldn't have said it."

"Blimey," Ron replied in amazement while Hermione continued to wear her knowing smile.

"There was something else," Harry continued, feeling compelled to tell his friends more. "I may have, sort of, kinda accused Snape for Sirius' death."

Ron's jaw dropped as Hermione slapped her forehead in disbelief.

"Why would you do that?" his bushy-haired friend asked incredulously. "Professor Snape was nowhere near the Ministry during that fight!"

"I know that!" Harry came back. He was already feeling guilty about it, and Hermione was not helping. "I may have had it in my head that the only reason Sirius came to help was because Snape had made fun of him for sitting around in that house all day and not doing anything to help the Order."

"Harry," Hermione began seriously, "Sirius _loved_ you. That's why he came to help save you! You think he gave a crap about what Snape said to him?"

Harry was looking down now. "That's exactly what Snape said," he mumbled.

"Whoa whoa whoa!" Ron butted in suddenly. "Snape actually _comforted_ you? Saying that Sirius _loved_ you?"

"Well… yeah," Harry answered as though he himself had just realized how amazing that was. "He also made sure to tell me not to blame myself, now that I think of it."

"The world is ending. It must be..." Ron trailed off with bewilderment.

Hermione rolled her eyes at the other two, as though she had always known Snape wasn't evil.

Several students started murmuring all of the sudden, as a beautiful golden owl swooped in through a nearby window. Heads turned to watch the magnificent creature as it gracefully flew over to the Gryffindor table. It swiftly dropped an envelope in front of Harry before turning on its wings and leaving the Great Hall.

"How original," a familiar voice mocked from another table, "a golden owl for the Golden Boy."

Harry turned his head to see the smug face of Draco Malfoy, and the group of Slytherins around him, laughing at his expense.

"Bloody idiot," Ron grumbled.

Doing his best to ignore the Slytherins, Harry turned back to the envelope as he was much more interested in its contents than Malfoy's insults.

Ron and Hermione watched anxiously as Harry peeled off the wax seal and pulled out a piece of parchment with green, scrawling writing covering it.

"It's from Dumbledore!" Harry whispered excitedly.

_Dear Harry,_

_I hope that you are feeling better? I was quite distraught by the news Professor Snape bestowed upon me regarding your condition. My guilt at not being able to visit you personally weighs heavily upon my conscious as well. There are few things in this world that would prevent me from assisting you in any way and, unfortunately, one of those is upon us. I have been rather busy, actually, extremely busy as rumors that Lord Voldemort's presence in the area have risen. This morning, a trusted source of mine has claimed to have actually seen Lord Voldemort, and this is very distressing news. I feel that, because of this news, drastic measures are to be taken._

_It is therefore my decision that for an undetermined amount of time, while Lord Voldemort is in the area, that you are to accompany Professor Snape in his guest quarters. I have no doubt in my mind that this will be the safest place for you in this school. You are aware of the work Professor Snape does for me in regards to Voldemort, and that he trusts your professor entirely. It is for this reason that I am placing you with Professor Snape. It is the last place Voldemort would think to look should he gain entrance to the school (this is highly unlikely, but possible nonetheless)._

_I have not yet spoken to Professor Snape regarding my decision. However, rest assured he will be more than willing to oblige._

_There is one more thing Harry, and this is very important. You must not tell anyone, not even Mr. Weasley or Ms. Granger, about where you are going. It is not because I don't trust them but because I wish not to endanger them, or you, in any way possible. If Lord Voldemort should perform Occlumency on either of your friends, they will not be able to hide your whereabouts from him if that knowledge is anywhere in their mind. I don't think any further convincing is necessary to persuade you to keep this to yourself._

_This is how it must be for now, but I do not anticipate it lasting for very long. The Aurors are working day and night to find Lord Voldemort's hideout. If they do not find him, I believe he and his Death Eaters will at least be pushed further away from the school._

_Take care Harry, and I will be able to meet with you in good time._

_Sincerely,_

_Headmaster Dumbledore_

Harry folded up the letter and placed it back into the envelope, silently telling himself to burn it later.

Ron and Hermione looked more anxious than ever.

"Well, what did it say?" Ron all but shouted.

Harry sighed, his face held an angry expression that did no justice to the fury he was feeling on the inside. "I can't tell you guys, I'm really sorry, but it involves You-Know-Who."

His friends looked like they had been hit over the head with a broom handle at the news that he couldn't tell them.

"You can't tell us _anything_?" Hermione pleaded.

Harry looked at his friends levelly. "All I can say is that I won't be sleeping in Gryffindor Tower for a while, and that my year just got a _whole_ lot better." Harry let the anger he felt come out in his sarcastic tone at that last bit of information.

All three friends slumped in their seats, a look of defeat on their faces and in their posture. Harry with the news that he would be spending even more of his free time with Snape, and Ron and Hermione with not being able to be let in on the secret.

* * *

Severus Snape could not help but let his sarcasm drip out at the Headmaster's words.

"Shall I get a tattoo on my other arm that says 'I heart Harry Potter'?"

Dumbledore was not amused. "I do not appreciate the tone, Severus."

"You do realize what will happen when the Dark Lord walks in on me, reading bedtime stories to the Boy-Who-Lived?"

Dumbledore responded only with the quirking of an eyebrow.

Snape sighed deeply, his angry expression receding as he turned to Dumbledore once more. "I did not mean to offend. I am concerned, Dumbledore. You do realize that my obligations to the Death Eaters will have me leaving Potter's side at one moment and arriving at the Dark Lord's the next?"

The Headmaster nodded knowingly, his long white beard cascading in waves from the movement. "It is risky, I know. But with Lord Voldemort's trust in you and your skills in Occlumency, it should not be any more of a risk than the fact you are already giving the boy private lessons."

Snape opened his mouth to comment, but Dumbledore cut him off.

"This is my decision, Severus."

Professor Snape folded his arms over his chest, his expression giving away the fact that he wanted to argue the point further. But, as said before, one did not argue with the final say of Albus Dumbledore.

The Headmaster continued. "I will send Harry's belongings later on so as to avoid the suspicions that would arise if he was seen carrying them himself on the way to your office. He will also have to wake up earlier than the other students so that he is not seen walking up out of your chambers in the morning. I don't think that will be a problem for him, as he is usually first to the Great Hall anyway."

Snape nodded at the Headmasters words. Inside, however, he was growing angrier. He would have little to no privacy anymore, what with the Golden Boy walking around his chambers all the time. Hopefully, it would not be for long. His distaste for the Dark Lord, and the circumstances created by him, was growing more so every minute.

* * *

Harry had arrived in Professor Snape's office at the usual time. This time, however, the Boy-Who-Lived appeared more wary than usual, as he was unsure of how Snape reacted to Dumbledore's news. He could assume, however, that his Potions professor had not jumped up and down with glee when he found out.

Snape did not take notice of Harry's presence until he walked across the room towards his desk.

The professor did not look at Harry as he spoke. "Let's get right to it, Potter."

Harry watched as the dark-cloaked man rose from his seat, pulled out his wand and walked closer, all without making eye contact.

"Erm, sure," was all Harry could manage to say.

The lesson had not gone terribly. Harry had actually managed to muffle one of Dumbledore's sentences in a memory. His professor could still make out what he had said, but even Snape admitted that it was a start.

A rather embarrassing string of memories had flooded his mind during one of the practices. All of the memories had been times when Snape had saved Harry's life. When he came back to reality, he pretended to ignore the smirk that was on his professor's face. Harry was not sure why those memories had all came out. For the life of him he couldn't figure out what it might mean. Of course, there was always the idea that it meant nothing and had just been random.

* * *

Harry lay in bed, thoughts from that evening continuing to go through his head. It had been an awkward couple of hours after the lesson had ended. Professor Snape had shown Harry the guest quarters he would be staying in, which was adjacent to Snape's own bedroom. Harry couldn't help but wonder if anyone had ever stayed in this room before and, if so, _who_a guest of Snape's might have been.

Harry had been pleasantly surprised though, at the comfort of the place. There was a door behind the desk of Snape's dark and abysmal dungeon office that lead to the main living area of his quarters. It was a lot like the Gryffindor common room. It was warm and inviting, with a fireplace and plush furniture. There was a library off of that room to one side, and the bedrooms were off to the other side. The library had been rather breathtaking. For a personal library, it was massive. The amount of books was staggering, and there was a large mahogany desk in the middle. Each corner of the desk had contained exquisite carvings of the seals of the four founders of Hogwarts.

Harry looked around his bedroom, which was just as comfortable as the living area. His bed was large and the mattress was the most comfortable thing he'd ever had the pleasure of laying on. Snape had conveniently left his own room out of the tour, but Harry didn't think he'd want to see that anyway.

Harry sighed happily in comfort, which was not something he expected to be feeling in a situation like this. His eyes began closing sleepily, and his last thought before drifting off was that maybe he'd get some undisturbed sleep that night.

* * *

Severus Snape sat awake in his library, a glass of firewhiskey on his desk as he poured over some of his potions books. Try as he might to not think about his current situation, it kept coming back to him.

The evening had not been a complete failure. The boy had actually managed to make some progress and, however trivial, it was better than the usual. In addition, despite what Severus was anticipating, Potter had also respected his privacy thus far. He hadn't gone nosing around, poking his head into everything like he usually did.

It was once Severus had realized he'd read the same paragraph six times and retained nothing, he decided he had been avoiding sleep for far too long.

Rising from his seat, he made his way to his bedroom, putting out all the lights with his wand as he went. He was about to enter his room when he heard a strange noise. What sounded like rustling and whimpering was coming from the guest bedroom. Raising an eyebrow, he slowly opened the door to Harry's room. The room was completely dark, and Severus stood by the doorway as he waited for his eyes to adjust. Deciding it was taking far too long, he reached for his wand and quietly muttered "Lumos". The professor walked slowly over to the boy's bed and held his wand over the struggling figure.

Harry was covered in a cold sweat. His mouth was moving quickly but nothing came out except for frantic, quiet moans. He was clutching at his covers with white knuckled hands, and his feet kicked out frantically from time to time.

Severus regarded the boy for a moment. He was considering just leaving Harry to his dreams, but this seemed like a nightmare that he felt the boy would probably want to be taken out of.

"Potter!" Snape whispered loudly. He got no response out of the boy. "Potter!" he tried again, but still nothing.

Sighing with annoyance, the professor sat down on the edge of the bed. He reached out the hand that wasn't holding his wand and began to shake Harry gently.

"Potter, wake up!"

Harry gasped loudly, and shot up so quickly that Snape hadn't had time to react. The boy had wrapped his arms around his professor, burying his head into Snape's chest and began muttering inaudibly. The action had caused Snape to drop his wand, and he watched as the light source rolled under the bed.

Severus sat, stiff as a board, as the young boy tightened his grip around him.

"Don't leave me, please… please don't leave," Harry's pleading voice was muffled by Snape's robes.

To be continued…


	7. Completely explain

Chapter 7: Which would completely explain, just how I'm breaking down

Severus Snape glanced around the room nervously. Harry was obviously still dreaming, but Snape didn't know what to make of the situation. He couldn't help but think how ironic his current position was. The boy, James Potter's son, was clinging to Severus as though he were some sort of lifeline. The son of one of his most loathed classmates was unknowingly asking him for comfort.

At that disgusting thought, Snape began to push the boy off of himself. He would have succeeded had he not then remembered the boy's emerald eyes. The eyes he inherited from his mother, Lily Evans. The woman for whom he made sure to protect the boy, the woman he would have done anything for.

He shook his head to clear his thoughts of Lily Evans, and his attention went back to the miserable boy in front of him. Snape had decided the only good way out of this would be to wake the boy up, when he suddenly felt something. There was a wetness spreading onto his chest through his shirt. He realized with horror that Harry had begun to silently sob, his body hitching as his tears continued to soak into the fabric.

This was not a situation Severus wanted to be in. He couldn't wake the boy when he was like this, both of them would be ridiculously embarrassed. And he certainly was not aware of the significance of Harry's tears. He had no idea the boy hadn't cried in months. But what he had realized, with a sadness he could not ignore, was that Harry was obviously living out his worst nightmare at that moment.

Drawing in a long breath, Snape pulled his arms out from under Harry's vice-like grip. He then slowly, and awkwardly, wrapped them around Harry. Having never received such comfort himself, he was wary as to how to give it. The boy responded instantly, however, by pulling himself closer and grabbing fistfuls of Severus' robes. The boy's sobs were shaking his whole body violently.

Severus didn't know what to do, or didn't want to do what he knew he should. Comforting the boy in this manner went above and beyond the call of protecting him. But something inside of his dark-cloaked form told him that he could not just abandon the Boy-Who-Lived while in this sort of state. As Harry's body continued to quake, Severus wrapped around him tighter to try to impede his trembling. The action had worked as the young boy began to calm, save for his continued weeping onto the professor's shirt. Then, without even realizing what he was doing, Severus slid one hand comfortingly into the boy's hair. He held Harry's head gently to his chest as the boy continued to silently cry.

* * *

Harry Potter's groggy mind began to resurface from the horrible dream he had been living through. As he slowly woke up, a few odd sensations began registering within his brain. First, he wasn't lying down; he was, in fact, sitting up. He thought that this was strange enough, until he realized how very warm he was. Warm all over. Normally when he awoke from nightmares he was freezing, and alone. It then occurred to him that he was neither of those things. The warm sensation was due to a pair of strong arms wrapped around him, comforting him.

Now he was extremely confused. He had no idea where he was or who he was with. Who would possibly be comforting him like this? His parents were gone, Sirius was gone, maybe Remus? No, that was silly. Remus was a good friend but not one who would take the time to comfort Harry in such a way. The Boy-Who-Lived continued to rack his brain when he suddenly remembered something.

He wasn't in Gryffindor Tower tonight. He was in Snape's quarters.

Harry swallowed a lump in his throat.

"_This couldn't be… no. No, that's ridiculous,"_he thought to himself.

He had to be sure though. He squinted his eyes so as not to give away he had woken up and waited patiently for his sight to adjust to the darkness of the room. Gradually, a row of vertically aligned buttons came into view atop a black shirt. Harry's heart began to beat faster. There was only one person he knew who wore a shirt like that. As if he needed more proof, he realized that what he had been holding onto this whole time was not robes, but a cloak.

Harry swallowed again nervously. His heart was pounding and he shifted a bit due to the sudden apprehension he was feeling.

He couldn't believe this. Snape? Snape had come into his room while he was having that nightmare? Snape was sitting here with him comforting him? Snape was actually _hugging_ him?

Harry then realized with dismay how wet his face was. This led him to realize how wet his professor's shirt was as well. He was beside himself with embarrassment and he shifted slightly again due to that fact.

At his shifting, he felt his professor pull him closer and more tightly. Harry would have been even more mortified had it not felt so… nice.

He had never, in all the years he could remember, been held like this. There was a small part of his brain telling him to enjoy it, that Snape thought he was still sleeping and that no harm could come from him continuing to act as though he was. Harry couldn't help but listen to that part of his mind, especially with the influence of the warmth that was spreading through him. He didn't want to look up at his professor. Not only because of the embarrassment it would create for both of them, but also because he did not want Snape to leave. He didn't want this feeling of comfort to be gone.

After a lifetime of getting smacked instead of hugged, he was starved for this kind of attention. And he must have been, Harry thought with a sad smile, to be wanting it from Professor Snape.

* * *

Harry began his long decent into the dungeon as he finished his classes for the day, save but one. He had been dreading that evenings Occlumency lesson all day. He always dreaded the lesson due to his inability to perform well, but he was more worried about the awkwardness level between him and his professor after what happened last night. Sure he had pretended to be asleep, and after a while actually fell back asleep due to the comfort he felt, but Snape had been awake and fully conscious of what he was doing that whole time. Therefore, Harry was not certain how his professor would act toward him. Too nervous to find out that morning, Harry had woken up extra early and bolted out of the dungeon before Snape had even woken up.

Harry had no idea when Snape had left him last night. His professor must have done it with extreme care, as Harry did not wake up. In fact, after he fell back asleep with Snape still there, he had not had a single nightmare the rest of the night. It was the best he had slept in months. A part of him wanted to thank his professor for doing what he did, but the other more logical part of his brain knew that Snape would only get angry at the fact that Harry had pretended to be asleep and sort of took advantage of the comfort he received. As well as the simple fact that Harry knew his professor had done something kind for him.

The Boy-Who-Lived was actually very confused about the whole ordeal. He couldn't figure out why Snape had even bothered. Why his professor hadn't just ignored whatever it was Harry was doing in his sleep and just gone to bed himself? Why would Professor Snape take the time to comfort Harry Potter?

The thought of it really was quite ridiculous, almost unbelievable. Which was exactly why Harry hadn't told Ron or Hermione about what had happened. It was embarrassing for him to admit to himself, let alone out loud to other people. Plus he figured his friends, especially Ron, would think he'd gone off his rocker and was probably having another nightmare that Snape was in his bedroom. Harry couldn't help but chuckle to himself at that thought. If he had been told yesterday that Snape was going to come into his bedroom at night while he was sleeping, that alone would have been scary enough of a thought to warrant a nightmare.

But today… today he knew differently. However, he still was not sure how to react to the situation.

He was at Professor Snape's office now, and he took a deep breath before knocking on the door.

He waited a moment, and when his professor didn't answer, he knocked again. A few moments later, there was still nothing.

Harry was confused, Professor Snape was never late. Puzzled and a little concerned, the Boy-Who-Lived opened the office door slowly.

"Professor?" he called out to the emptiness.

There was once again no reply, and Harry walked into the office. Quickly surveying the room, he could see that Snape definitely was not there. He then moved to the door on the opposite end and entered Snape's quarters.

"Professor Snape?" he tried again.

Suddenly, Harry fell to his knees. There was an overwhelming pain in his head, his scar feeling as though it was being touched with a hot iron poker. Harry held his head in his hands, yelling as the pain grew more intense. Voldemort was very angry about something, Harry was sure of that. Then, just as suddenly as it began, the pain went away. Gasping for breath, Harry pushed himself back to his feet. Rubbing his scar wearily, he was beginning to think that Snape must not be around, otherwise he would have stormed in due to all the yelling. No sooner had this thought crossed his mind when the fireplace lit up with an emerald green glow. Harry watched as his professor stepped out of it, his body hunched over with one hand on the side of his waist. Snape's face was masked with pain, and his breath came in short, shallow gasps.

Harry was alarmed at his normally stoic professor's current appearance. He ran to Snape's side and grabbed the older wizard, just as his professor's legs gave out. Snape's body leaned against Harry heavily, and the Boy-Who-Lived helped the man to a chair. Once he had set Snape down, Harry's brow knitted in concern as he took in the man's appearance. There was sweat beading on Snape's forehead, and his face was screwed up in pain. Blood covered the hand that was holding his side, and Harry could see the semi darker area of his professor's black robes where more blood was pooling. Then, Harry watched with horror as Snape's head lolled to the side.

"Professor!" Harry shouted, grabbing Snape's shoulders and shaking him. "Professor, wake up!"

Severus Snape's head shot back up. His glassy eyes held a look of confusion as he tried to focus on Harry's face. "Turquoise… turquoise vial. On my desk…" he managed to get out between gasps for air.

Nodding, Harry ran as fast as he could back into the professor's office. Looking frantically, he could not find any vial at all on the desk. Cursing under his breath, he ran back to the professor's side.

"Sir, there isn't any vial on your desk!"

Snape looked wearily back at Harry. There was confusion masking his face. "My desk, in the- in the library…" he had barely spoken the last word when his head lolled to the side again.

"Professor!" Harry shouted frantically.

Deciding he had better find that vial, he bolted to the library and threw the door open. The turquoise vial was sitting there staring back at him, atop the mahogany desk. Harry grabbed it and returned to his unconscious professor. Hoping with all his heart this would work, he uncorked the vial and tipped it into his professor's mouth. Snape sputtered at the intrusive feeling of liquid being forced down his throat. Then, as he slowly came to, he began drinking with more vigor, eager to get the fluid down as quickly as possible.

Harry watched with amazement as the open wound in Snape's side began to seal itself shut. Once the wound had completely healed, Harry looked back at his professor's face. Snape's breathing was beginning to return to normal, and his expression began to relax.

"Are you okay?" Harry's worried voice questioned.

Snape snorted. "As okay as one could be, I suppose."

After a few moments of silence, Harry couldn't help but let his curiosity take over. "Professor," he began quietly, "what happened to you?"

Snape was rubbing small circles on his temples to soothe away an obvious headache. His eyes were shut tightly as he spoke. "That, Mr. Potter, is none of your business."

Harry was taken aback at the sudden change of mood in the room. Not two seconds ago he was worried his professor was going to die, and now they were back to Snape treating him coldly.

Harry gathered the courage to speak again. "Sir, I think I have a right to know."

Severus stopped massaging his head as he looked back at Harry through heavily lidded eyes. "And why would that be?" his cold voice commanded.

"Professor," Harry began with astonishment, "you just stumbled into the room half-dead with a gash in your side and you expect me not to ask about it? You would be dead right now if I hadn't been here!"

Snape looked back at the boy levelly. "Yes, it is rather amazing you managed to be on time, isn't it?"

Harry could feel an all too familiar anger welling up inside of him. He watched as his professor slowly stood and began making his way out of the room.

"You owe me an explanation! I just saved your life!" Harry shouted angrily at Snape's back.

Severus stopped walking. His shoulders were rigid with tension as he turned to face the young boy. His look was menacing. Harry had to stop himself from taking a step back as his professor stalked toward him.

"Just like your father, Potter." Snape's voice was low and seething, resembling Parseltongue but in perfect English. "Constantly thinking you are owed something for a good deed while others around you bend over backwards for your very existence and expect nothing in return."

Flashes of the times Snape saved Harry went through the Boy-Who-Lived, much like the time during Occlumency. Then a flash from last night entered his mind. Had that really been the same Snape that was standing here giving him that typical hateful look right now? Harry started to wonder if he had been dreaming that whole thing. But it had been much too real to only be a dream. Standing his ground, Harry looked back at his professor with meaning. Nothing ever got solved between the two of them when Harry started yelling back.

"I didn't mean it like that, sir," Harry said calmly. "I was worried, I thought you were dying."

"How very astute of you, seeing as how I was."

At the wide-eyed look the young boy was giving him, something in Snape relaxed suddenly. Sighing, he backed away and resumed sitting in his chair. Had the boy really just said he was worried about him? Well, he supposed that would be a natural reaction for anyone who saw their teacher enter the room bleeding and passing out. But did he really owe the boy an explanation? No, no he didn't. However, there would be no harm in letting him know what happened as it probably wouldn't be the last time. And if the boy would be staying with him for a while, he may as well alert him of what was going on in case something like that should happen again. That way, Harry would be more prepared for what to do next time.

He really hoped there wouldn't be a next time.

Severus looked up then, and rolled his eyes at the awkward way Harry was hovering next to him. "Take a seat, Potter."

Nodding quickly, Harry slumped down onto the adjacent couch. His back tinged with pain at the sudden movement, but Harry tried to ignore it. It had been acting up all day, and he knew it was because he had never finished the other half of the potion Snape had given him. And now he was too embarrassed to ask for more because it had been a couple days since he was supposed to finish it, and he knew it would only give him more grief from his professor.

Pushing that thought out of his mind, he focused on Snape as the man began talking.

"I assume, what with your constant prying, you are aware of my position with the Dark Lord?"

Harry nodded with interest, ignoring the insult that Snape had slipped in.

"Then you are also aware of the fact that I bear the Death Eaters mark and am summoned to the Dark Lord's side just as all the other members are?" Snape asked with raised eyebrows.

"Yes, Professor Dumbledore has told me all about the spying you do for him," Harry finished with an air of importance at already knowing this information.

Professor Snape nodded slowly. "Of course, the Headmaster wouldn't leave anything out for the Golden Boy," he finished with disdain.

"Actually," Harry began with a hint of annoyance in his voice, "he leaves plenty out. And I'd appreciate it if you didn't refer to me as the 'Golden Boy'."

Snape smirked, but managed to carry on without insulting the boy further.

"I was summoned tonight," he began slowly. "The Dark Lord wanted information from me."

Harry opened his mouth to speak, but Snape cut him off with his hand.

"Information," he continued loudly, "that I cannot divulge to you."

Harry nodded grudgingly and continued to sit silently. He wanted to hear the rest of this and arguing would not be the way to accomplish that.

"I provided the Dark Lord with what he wanted to know. However, the information was… not to his liking. He ordered his snake to attack me."

Harry was staggered. "Voldemort tried to kill you? But why? I thought you were, you know, sort of his favorite or whatever."

Severus smiled ruefully. "More of a scare, really. He knew I would return here and use my anti-venom potion."

"But sir," Harry began quizzically, "if I hadn't been here… well, you were passing out as soon as you came through the Floo."

"Yes, it seems as though your assistance at the time was, for once, of use to me," Snape finished slowly, as though it pained him to say it.

Harry couldn't help but smile at his professor's words. Even as the man tried to thank him for saving his life he _still_ managed to insult him.

Snape looked levelly at the young boy. "Do I amuse you, Potter?"

Harry shook his head as he chuckled. "You're welcome, Professor."

Snape gave Harry a meaningful look as he stood. "I think that we will skip tonight's lesson then, what with all of the… excitement. Maybe you should use your new found free time to catch up on some of your other classes."

Snape began to exit when Harry's words put a halt to his retreat, yet again.

"I wanted to thank you, too."

Severus closed his eyes tightly. Not only was he worried about what the boy could possibly be referring to, but he was also rather irritated at his insinuation that Snape had previously thanked him.

Harry continued slowly, choosing his words carefully. "You probably heard me making noise last night. I'm assuming you did anyway because uncle Vernon would always hear me when I was having nightmares and would come in and yell at me to be quiet."

Harry paused for a moment thinking Snape might have something to say. However, his professor remained still and silent, facing away from him. Harry did notice the way his professor's hands were clenching and unclenching nervously at his sides.

"Anyway," the young boy continued, "I wanted to thank you for not storming into my room, and for… putting up with me."

Snape's voice was tense as he replied. "There is no thanks necessary, Potter, for the fact that I did not come in and... _punish_you for having a nightmare."

Harry's eyebrows narrowed in confusion.

"No, sir, that's not what I meant. I was thanking you for what you _did_ do, not what you didn't. And also, for how long you did it. That's all I wanted to say," he finished quickly.

Snape's mind was whirling. Did the boy really know what he had done last night? Had he woken up at some point and Snape was not aware of it? No… no if he had woken, he would have let it be known. Then again, maybe he wouldn't in order to spare the embarrassment. It was for that very reason that Snape had not immediately woken the boy up himself.

Harry watched his professor as the dark-cloaked man turned around to face him. There was a look in Snape's eyes, a look of understanding. Harry took it to mean that his professor knew what it was Harry was referring to, but they were at a mutual understanding that they wouldn't speak of it, for now anyway.

To be continued…


	8. Someone come and

Chapter 8: Someone come and save my life

Severus Snape was a confused man.

As he walked from the Great Hall to teach his first morning class, he let the events of the other night invade his mind. However much he wanted to avoid thinking about it.

What had compelled him to stay with Potter for so long? Granted, the boy was truly upset, but to stay and coddle him in such a way? Severus thought he must have slowly been losing his mind.

There was another part of his brain however, a part that knew somewhere deep down his opinion of the Boy-Who-Lived was slowly changing. Yes he was still an emotional, occasionally thickheaded and foolhardy Gryffindor. But Snape was slowly realizing that those were the only qualities the boy shared with his father. Potter could be truly perceptive, when he wanted to be anyway, and he was modest, not like James and his godfather. Snape was beginning to realize just how much the boy hated being the 'famous Harry Potter'. He clearly didn't enjoy being referred to as the 'Golden Boy', and had hidden his muggle-family-caused injuries so as not to be a burden to Dumbledore. He was quite humble, and always looking out for the well being of others.

Just like his mother.

Snape inhaled deeply as he began his decent to his Potions classroom. He realized he had about thirty seconds before class began. He was never late to teach his classes. Partly to set an example but mainly so that he could see which of his students were tardy.

He opened the thick wooden door to his class and entered with about ten seconds to spare. He glanced at all of the young faces quickly as he made toward his desk at the front of the room. He noticed immediately that Potter was missing and he couldn't help but smirk to himself. He would enjoy giving the boy trouble when he ran into his classroom too late.

As that thought left his mind, another took its place. One that asked him why he enjoyed giving the young man so much grief? One that told him Potter was not his father. Snape answered the voice with another thought. When the boy acted like his father, he had no trouble dishing out the punishments.

Class had been in session for a good ten minutes, and all of the students were quietly measuring ingredients for the potion he had written on the board. All of the students save for one. Potter's chair was still empty.

As Professor Snape walked to the head of the class, he decided to address the issue.

"Weasley! Granger! Where is Potter this morning?"

Ron and Hermione exchanged a nervous glance. They didn't know where Harry was, and they didn't know where he had been sleeping the last few nights either. Harry had told them Dumbledore had made special arrangements for him because of the threat of Voldemort, but he didn't elaborate. However, in case their friend was skipping, they didn't want to get him into more trouble.

Ron cleared his throat.

"He wasn't feeling well this morning, sir. He's still in the Gryffindor bedchambers trying to get some sleep."

Severus knew, for reasons Ron did not, that the red-headed boy was lying. Snape didn't like being lied to. The potions master glared levelly before pointing his finger at Ron and Hermione.

"You two, join me in the hall."

The two friends looked at each other again, this time their faces were etched with fear. They slowly rose from their seats as their professor glided by, the Slytherins in their class giggling.

Once outside the classroom, the professor shut the door so as to remain unheard by the other students. He then faced the two Gryffindors, folding his arms into his cloak so that he resembled a bat, more so than usual.

"For reasons I cannot divulge," he began silkily, "I know for a fact that you were lying to me." His eyes moved quickly from one young face to the other. When neither teenager looked as though they were going to fess up, Snape began to lose what little patience he had. "Where. Is. Potter?"

Hermione gulped, her wide young eyes looking up through unkempt bangs.

"We don't know, sir. He never came to breakfast this morning and Ron said he hasn't been sleeping in Gryffindor tower for a couple nights now-"

"Hermione!" Ron cut his friend off with an anxious look, feeling she didn't need to reveal that much information.

"What? I'm worried about him, Ronald!"

"Harry told us not to say anything to _anyone_!"

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Tell anyone what, exactly? We don't even know anything!"

"Hermione!" Ron whined. She had unknowingly just blown their cover, admitting they didn't know where Harry was.

Professor Snape watched the exchange between the two with annoyance. He was about to tell them to silence their bickering when a thought occurred to him. The boy had never gone to breakfast and was now missing the first class of the day? Severus pinched the bridge of his nose in frustration. Apparently, the Boy-Who-Lived couldn't even get up on his own. Well, he wasn't about to be the boy's alarm clock! He had a class to teach. A class which Harry would miss because of his laziness and for which Snape would be more than happy to assign him double the homework for his insolence.

Severus had just decided he would go give the boy a rather rude awakening after his class when the door to the potions room flew open.

"Professor!" A terrified Pansy Parkinson panted heavily before catching her breath. "Draco dared Gregory to drink something that was on your desk and he was stupid enough to do it! Now he's covered with purple bumps!"

Snape's eyes shut tightly as he took a deep breath. When he opened them again he could see Pansy, Ron and Hermione were all staring at him expectantly.

"Don't just stand there Miss Parkinson, show me which vial Goyle drank out of! And you two," he turned back to Ron and Hermione, "ten points each from Gryffindor for your dishonesty."

The two friends walked slowly back into the classroom after Snape, who was now yelling at Goyle.

"Don't suppose he'll take any points from Slytherin for that," Hermione muttered out of the side of her mouth.

"I don't think he'd take points from his house if one of his students murdered him," Ron came back.

"Well of course he wouldn't, Ronald. How's he going to take points away if he's dead?"

Ron looked at Hermione's smug face and rolled his eyes.

* * *

Professor Snape walked into his office with purposeful strides.

"The boy had better have a good excuse for missing the entire lesson," he muttered under his breath.

As he opened the door to his private quarters, Severus was thinking of rude ways he could startle the boy awake if he walked into Potter's room and found him sleeping comfortably.

Snape walked into his living area and froze at the scene before him.

Harry Potter was laying face down on the floor with blood stains penetrating the rug that surrounded him.

Severus' throat went dry.

He ran over to the boy and kneeled beside him. He placed one hand on the boy's shoulder and the other on his chest before gingerly turning him over. His eyes quickly scanned Potter's body for any sign of an injury that could have caused the blood. Confused, he found none. His eyes then caught a glint of light reflecting off of something behind Harry's unconscious body. He looked to the reflection and found broken pieces of glass lying there. Some pieces were smaller than others, but Severus deduced quickly that they had once been a drinking glass. He then touched the stain in the rug and brought his fingers up to his nose. It smelled like cherry juice.

"Thank Merlin," he breathed.

His attention went immediately back to Harry. Even though he had not been losing any blood, he looked horrible. The boy was pale, and a cold sweat covered his body. His hairline was wet, and there was a large sweat mark on his tee shirt over his chest. The young boy was trembling, shivering violently. Severus placed a hand on the boy's forehead. He felt cold, too cold. Harry's breathing was very rapid, and Snape then gently placed two fingers on the boy's neck to find a pulse. He didn't have to look very long, as the boy's heart was beating so fast and so hard, he could literally see the artery in his neck ticking.

After a quick play-by-play in the Professor's head of all of the symptoms, Severus knew exactly what he was dealing with.

He gently pulled the teenager into a sitting position, one hand pulling and the other cradling the boy's neck. Once he had settled Harry against himself, he carefully lifted up the back of the boy's tee shirt. What he saw did not surprise him, but he was still wishing that, for once, his instincts had been wrong.

Several of the gashes on Harry's back had become infected. Their coloring had not only worsened, but had spread to cover about one quarter of the boys back.

It was blood poisoning.

"Foolish boy," Snape whispered as he let Harry's shirt cover his back once again.

The professor knew immediately that the boy must not have taken the other half of the potion. Snape was cursing not only Harry's forgetfulness, but also his own stupidity for not following through and making sure the boy had taken it.

However, now was not the time to place blame or feel guilty. Professor Snape knew exactly what Harry needed. He required a potion that Snape luckily kept in stock, not unlike the muggle form of penicillin, and he needed to get the boy's body temperature back up, and fast.

Snape contemplated the situation quickly. He couldn't take Harry to the hospital wing, he was sure of that. He couldn't alert Madam Pomfrey to the boy's situation, as well as the fact that he had been staying with Snape. If the Dark Lord decided to question Poppy, she would either have to tell all, or would be as good as dead. No, Snape decided that the boy would do his recovering right here, in his private quarters, which meant that he, Severus Snape, would be his caretaker. He would also be the one to provide the comfort during Harry's semi consciousness, as well as the restraint so the boy wouldn't harm himself.

Severus wrapped one arm under Harry's legs and the other around his shoulders. He carefully lifted the teenager, and as he began walking toward Harry's room the young wizard's head slumped to the side so that it was resting peacefully against Snape's chest.

Snape looked down at his charge with mixed emotions.

"You will be the death of me, Potter," he said quietly.

Now that he held Harry in his arms, he could feel just how cold the teenager really was. Harry continued to shiver in his sleep, and it seemed as though his body was trying to increase the contact with Severus' warmth. The boy kept fidgeting in his arms, turning himself so that his arms were wrapped around Snape's neck and his face was buried in the man's shoulder.

With difficulty, due to Harry's squirming, Snape finally managed to get the boy onto his bed and under the covers. He needed to leave in order to retrieve the medication, but the boy would not release his hold around Snape's neck.

Grabbing the teenager's hands with his own, Severus managed to wrench himself free. He turned to leave but Harry held onto one of his hands in a vice-like grip.

"Don't leave me… please don't leave."

Snape froze. Those were the same terrified words the boy had spoken in his sleep last night. The professor figured he shouldn't be surprised. How many people in Harry's life _had_ left him, after all?

Steeling himself, Severus placed his other hand over Harry's so that the boy's hand was sandwiched between his own.

"I will not leave you. I need to go and get something to help you, and I will return immediately after."

Snape looked over his charge carefully. Harry's eyes were still shut, but there was a confused look on his sleeping face. The boy's grip loosened, and that was Snape's cue to move.

He left Harry in his room and walked quickly to his office. He had an idea of where the right medication was, but not its exact location. He opened a cupboard and began to search the shelves from top to bottom. On the fourth shelf he found exactly what he was looking for; a vial of clear potion with the appropriate label on its side. On his way out, he opened a drawer and grabbed a syringe. He was not a fan of needles, but since the boy's poisoning was rather severe, Severus knew he'd have to inject the medication directly into the bloodstream. It would also prove more efficient than attempting to make the unconscious teenager swallow a potion.

He walked quickly back to the boy's room, but not before Flooing a message to the headmaster.

Dumbledore's face appeared in the fire, the shape of his hat lost in the flames.

"Severus! How are you m'boy?"

"No time for pleasantries, Albus. Potter is hurt and I have to attend to him. I had to alert you, of course."

Dumbledore's expression changed to one of urgency. "Of course, Severus, go to Harry and I will be right there."

Snape nodded and returned to the teenager's side. Despite being covered with a plethora of blankets, Harry was still shivering. Snape pulled a chair up next to the bed, and began the task of transferring the potion to the syringe.

He pulled one of Harry's arms out from under the blankets, and held the boy's wrist firmly in his hand. Normally, it would not be hard to find a vein, what with how skinny the teenager was. However, due to the boy's hypothermia, his veins had contracted and were proving most difficult to locate. Once he had successfully found a vein, Snape pursed his lips as he entered the needle into the boy's arm. Harry winced in his sleep, but gave no indication of waking up. The professor continued to inject the medication until the carefully measured amount had entered the boy's bloodstream. Snape pulled the needle back out and disposed of it. He was tucking the boy's arm back under the covers when Dumbledore entered the room.

"Severus, what happened?" the headmaster questioned as he stood next to the Potion's master.

"Once again, Potter failed to follow very simple directions." Snape's tone covered the worry that he felt for the young boy. "He forgot to drink the other half of the potion I provided for him, and now his wounds have become infected."

Dumbledore looked from Harry back to Snape with concern etched in his features.

"Potter has blood poisoning," Snape finished with a sigh.

Professor Dumbledore knew Severus much too well to assume that the man was not worried about the young boy. He also knew the younger professor was partly blaming himself for the accident. He placed a comforting hand on Snape's shoulder as he asked his next question.

"You know that I trust you wholeheartedly, Severus. How would you like to proceed?"

Snape inwardly winced. The older man was being overly kind. Snape knew that Dumbledore would never accuse him of being neglectful toward Harry, even though that's what he had been in his own opinion. No, even after screwing up with the boy, Dumbledore was going to let him keep calling the shots.

The headmaster spoke again. "I already know why you haven't taken Harry to Poppy, and I agree with your decision. As long as you believe you can tend to Harry, with my help of course, the two of us will be the only ones who have to know."

Snape nodded in agreement. He looked over the young, very sick, boy as he spoke again. "His injuries are well within my limits. Taking care of him won't be a problem. I have already given Potter a large dose of medication, the only problem now is getting his body temperature back up and keeping it there."

Dumbledore nodded knowingly. "You have an idea, I'm guessing, as to how to do that?"

"A few," Snape replied, knowing all too well that Dumbledore already knew the answers to the questions he was asking.

The headmaster nodded again. He then looked back at Severus with a more serious expression. "And what of the side effects of the medication? Are you prepared to deal with them?"

Snape couldn't help but swallow a lump in his throat. As a result of the medicine, Harry would be semi-unconscious for a couple of days. Snape had read about this, and he knew the boy would be waking up on and off. The times that he was awake he would be extremely emotional, due to the dramatic contents of Harry's dreams. The boy could even be delirious at times, yet another after effect of the medicine. The Potion's master knew that he had a rough couple of days ahead of him, but he was prepared to deal with them. He wanted to right his wrong. In his mind, for some reason, he was blaming himself more than he was blaming Harry.

Snape looked back at Dumbledore levelly. "I am more than prepared, Albus. The only problem will be explaining both my and Potter's absence for the next couple of days."

The headmaster's eyes twinkled despite the serious look his face continued to hold. "You leave that to me, Severus. You have a very sick young wizard to attend to, after all," the professor added as he made to leave the room. "I will be popping in and out to check on you, and do not hesitate to call me if you need anything. And I mean that, Severus."

Snape nodded at the seriousness of the headmaster's words.

Satisfied and with a nod of his own, Dumbledore left the room.

Severus Snape's attention was pulled back to the pale and shivering form of Harry Potter. He placed a hand on the boy's forehead again and was not surprised to find that his temperature remained too low. He knew what he needed to do. The boy was too cold and still covered in sweat. There was only one remedy that would fix both problems, and Severus went to draw a hot bath for a very sick Harry Potter.

To be continued…


	9. The night is taking sides

Chapter 9: Maybe I'll sleep when I am dead, but now it's like the night is taking sides

Professionalism was something that Severus Snape prided himself on. He was very much unlike that flighty fantasist Sybil Trelawney or the idiotic Gilderoy Lockharte. "_Conceited moron_," Snape thought to himself at that last name. Why, even the headmaster had his moments of whimsy that made Snape want to scowl, even though he knew it was all an act played perfectly for a higher purpose. However, he was still not particularly enthralled with the idea that a genius such as Albus Dumbledore had been looked down upon in the wizarding world for his occasional flights of fancy.

Professor Snape, however, was always professional. No matter what position he held in his many acts of life.

This… situation, was no different.

As he lowered a trembling, and still unconscious, Harry Potter into a hot bath, he reminded himself of his duty to the boy. Once again, Harry did not want to let go of the professor. Once Snape had managed to relinquish the boy's grip, the young teenager's face seemed to relax as he settled into the hot, soothing water.

Snape couldn't help but let the corners of his mouth twitch upward as Harry's swim trunks puffed up like a balloon. He had transfigured the boy's pants before carrying him into the bathroom. Professionalism or not, one's modesty was obviously something of a personal nature. Seeing any of his students in such a way was something, he hoped, he would never have to witness. He could not even fathom the embarrassment he, and Harry, would feel if the boy happened to wake up completely naked and in his presence.

Severus conjured up a chair and sat down next to the bathtub. He would not leave Harry, as the thought of the unconscious boy's head slipping under the water while he was gone had entered his mind more than once.

The professor placed one hand gently onto Harry's back and pushed the boy so that he was leaning forward. With his other hand, he began pouring warm water over Harry's head.

Severus couldn't help but let a spiteful smile grace his features. He couldn't even imagine the looks that would be on Lucius' or Draco's face if they walked in at that moment. Severus Snape, the Dark Lord's right hand man, holding onto an unconscious Harry Potter in a tub full of water and _not_ attempting to drown him.

Although, to be fair, Severus himself had never anticipated he would be in such a position. The fact that Potter was even in his living quarters and not being reprimanded for it was something completely foreign to the professor. Adding to that, he was the boy's caretaker. He had put it upon himself to make the boy healthy again of his own free will. Severus just wasn't sure how he felt about Harry Potter anymore. The realization that he was going to such extreme lengths to care for the boy was disconcerting enough for the professor. But then there was that feeling that kept swelling up inside of him whenever he looked at Harry… that heart-wrenching sensation that made him want to chase away all the demons in the boy's life that had caused him harm.

Severus laughed to himself. As in order to accomplish that, he would have to chase away himself.

The professor's rambling thoughts were cut short when his charge began mumbling in his sleep.

"Uncle Vernon… no, no I didn't do it. I didn't trip Dudley I swear! No, not the water again… no. Don't!"

The professor's eyebrows shot up as Harry slid himself forcefully under water, completely submerging himself. His arms then began flailing wildly above the surface as though he was being held under.

Severus didn't have time to ponder why Harry's unconscious thoughts were making him drown himself as he went after the boy. He reached into the tub and grasped Harry under his arms. He pulled with all of his might, but the young teenager was surprisingly strong as he fought him.

Snape grew more concerned as Harry began thrashing more viciously, clearly running out of air. The professor decided he didn't have enough leverage. He stepped into the bathtub and squatted down as he grabbed Harry under the arms once again. Then, with as much strength as he could muster, he lifted Harry to a standing position.

He held onto Harry as the boy sputtered and coughed, trying to get air back into his lungs. Severus thought for a moment what they must look like; both standing in the tub, he completely dressed and soaked from head to toe as he held a swim trunk clad Harry Potter who was having a coughing fit.

As Harry's coughing subsided, the boy's eyes slowly blinked open. His face was filled with confusion as he looked at the soaked wizard in front of him.

"Professor?" he asked slowly.

Snape knew it was too much to hope for that the boy had miraculously skipped the hours of semi consciousness that lay before him.

"Yes, Potter?" he replied nonchalantly, as though their current position was nothing out of the ordinary.

"You saved me from my uncle." Harry's face was happy now as he smiled up at the older man.

Snape found it curious that the boy had stated that as though it were nothing new, as though it were as ordinary as a cloudy day.

"Does that happen often?" the professor questioned back. He meant if it happened often while Harry dreamed, but telling the boy he was dreaming right now would only confuse him.

The messy-haired teenager shrugged. "You always save me, professor."

A lump formed in Snape's throat, one that prevented him from any sort of a dignified response. He was automatically taken back to the previous day during Occlumency. Harry had relived the many times Snape had saved him. The professor knew that there had been a solid reason for why the boy's mind had chosen to make him experience those events again, but Snape had decided to ignore the fact. It was much harder to ignore now, however, as patients had always proven to be truthful during the emotional, and semi conscious state that came with blood poisoning.

The teenager continued gazing up at him, blinking through half-lidded, glassy eyes.

Snape, not wanting the boy to get cold again, led Harry out of the tub and performed a drying charm on him. He was then reminded of his own saturation as he watched droplets of water drip from tendrils of his long, black hair.

Snape rolled his eyes as he performed a drying charm for himself. He was becoming increasingly annoyed at the way he kept managing to completely forget himself as he was tending to Harry-bloody-Potter. Looking back to a few minutes ago, he was not sure _what_had compelled him to jump into the water after the boy instead of simply performing _Wingardium Leviosa_. He was an accomplished wizard through and through, and spells were always his first instinct.

As he led Harry out of the bathroom, he decided to add that thought to his ever-increasing list of confusing maladies.

* * *

Severus sat in his living area before a crackling fire. He was resting on the couch in the dimly lit room, quietly reading a book.

It wasn't too late, nearing around eleven o'clock. Severus was something of a night owl, and usually didn't head to bed until around two or three in the morning. On this night, however, he was feeling exhausted. And for good reason, he mused to himself.

Setting his book aside, he leaned his head back on the couch and closed his eyes. He had put Harry to bed shortly after the bathtub incident, and was happy to see that the boy's temperature had risen. It was still low, but not dangerously so. It had taken a while for Harry to slip back into actual sleep, and Snape had stayed by his side until he did. He had left the boy only a couple hours ago. He knew that if Harry started walking around again there was nothing in his bedroom that could harm him. And if he decided to leave his room, Severus would be able to see it.

As if on cue with that thought, the professor heard the door to the boy's room open and then close again.

Severus cracked open an eye as he watched Harry approach him, wondering what the boy could be dreaming this time. He observed the teenager as he shuffled his feet along the floor. Harry climbed on the couch next to Severus, settling himself against the older wizard and wrapping the man's arm around his shoulder.

"Couldn't sleep," Harry muffled into Snape's side. "My room's too cold."

Snape tensed at the boldness with which the boy came to him for comfort. He was uncomfortable with the situation, but knew that Harry was dreaming and that his health came first. He could indeed feel how cold the teenager was against his body. Snape instinctively wrapped his arm around Harry tighter while summoning a blanket from across the room and then laying it over the boy.

Harry immediately nestled in and wrapped his arms around Severus' torso. "Thanks, Daddy."

Oh no, this would not do. Clearly the teenager was dreaming he was a small child, as he had just called the professor "Daddy", but that was not the pressing issue right now. Even though he knew the boy was dreaming, he still couldn't allow himself to be confused with James Potter. Even if the truth would hurt the boy, he was not about to play the part of _that_ man.

"Potter," Severus began slowly and carefully so as not to upset the boy too much with the truth. "_Damn! Since when do I care about the boy's feelings?"_ he thought angrily before continuing out loud. "It's me, Professor Snape."

Harry looked up and met the professor's eyes with confusion. "I know," he stated simply.

Snape swallowed, he was _not_ expecting that. "You do?"

Harry smiled. "Quit being so silly, Dad."

Snape's chest suddenly felt constricted as he realized the nature of what Harry was dreaming. Potter's subconscious thoughts had just made a giant leap. Snape had gone from being the boy's guardian and savior to the ultimate figure of what those images represented to Harry, a father.

Snape was disturbed by the quickness Harry seemed to be attaching to him. The professor knew from research he had done that Harry's dreams represented what he wanted most in the real world. Snape sighed angrily to himself. He shouldn't be surprised by this turn of events, but it was still disconcerting. Harry wanted a father more than anything, which was obvious since the moment the boy walked into Hogwarts. But not just any father, one he knew would be there for him to love him and protect him. This was something the boy had always lacked, and Severus knew how that felt.

It was at that annoyingly inopportune moment that, as the boy snuggled in closer, Albus Dumbledore walked through the fireplace.

A smile played under Dumbledore's beard as he took in the sight of the younger wizards before him. "It seems young Harry has cozied up to you quicker than I had anticipated, Severus."

Snape chose to ignore the headmaster's ridiculous pun, as well as that maddening, all-knowing twinkle that always seemed to be in his eyes.

"The boy is still too cold, as well as delirious," Snape commented nonchalantly. He would not admit how incredibly embarrassed he was at that moment. He figured it didn't matter though, Dumbledore _always_ knew what he was thinking. "_Bloody mind reader_," Snape thought with annoyance.

"Ah," Dumbledore nodded. "It is happening already? I expected the dreams to wait until tomorrow…"

Snape shook his head. "It was almost an immediate reaction. The first one took place shortly after you last left. In fact, isn't that what you should be doing right now?"

As if blatantly ignoring Snape's last comment, Dumbledore took a seat in the adjacent armchair before speaking again. "The first one? How many dreams have there been so far?"

"Just two," Snape sighed. He knew he would not get rid of his mentor so easily.

"And what have the dreams been entailing?" Dumbledore questioned further.

Snape knew that the headmaster was aware of the significance of whatever the boy was dreaming about. It was for mainly this reason that he decided to leave the whole "father" nonsense out of the discussion. He didn't need any more of that damned _twinkling_ heading in his direction.

"Just the usual horrors the boy faces. Pleading for mercy at the hands of his uncle, that sort of thing," Snape finished quickly.

Harry began stirring. He shifted a little under Snape's arm and wiped his eyes sleepily. "Who are you talking to, Daddy?"

Dumbledore's eyebrows rose ever so slightly, and Snape would have slapped himself on the forehead in dismay had he not been so practiced at keeping his composure.

Severus sighed in defeat. "Headmaster Dumbledore is here. He came by to see you."

Harry looked around the room in confusion, his eyes grazing the very spot Dumbledore sat on several occasions with no hint of recognition.

"Where?" the teenager questioned. "I don't see him anywhere."

Snape met Dumbledore's gaze, and they looked at each other levelly for a moment.

"Never mind," Snape replied, regarding Harry once again. "Go back to sleep now, you need your rest."

"Mmkay," Harry muffled as he nuzzled into Snape once more.

That infernal lump found its way back into the professor's throat, and he was tired of trying to swallow around it. The look that Dumbledore was giving him was doing nothing to ease his discomfort, either.

"Severus," the headmaster began slowly, "this is quite an interesting turn in events."

"Your ability to state the obvious _astounds_ me, Albus," Snape came back while rolling his eyes.

Ignoring the Potions professor's snide remarks as he always had, the headmaster continued. "Did Harry's previous dream include you playing the role of father as well?"

"No, only his savior," Snape replied bitterly.

Dumbledore nodded. "And I'm sure it did not escape your notice that the boy wasn't aware of my presence. The way he didn't even know I existed in this room."

"What of it?" Snape sighed impatiently, wishing the headmaster would get to his bloody point already.

"He sees only you, Severus."

Snape sucked in a breath. That was… intense, too intense for him to be contemplating right now. He was exhausted and didn't want to consider the annoying truth that Dumbledore's words were further solidifying his earlier thought of what it was the boy wanted.

Dumbledore regarded his two young wizards again before standing. "I can see that you are tired, Severus. I will leave you two for the night."

Snape's eyes narrowed as he watched Dumbledore walk toward the fireplace. There had to be some angle, the older wizard was _never_ that easy to get rid of.

"It seems that you two are quite content with each other," Dumbledore continued as he walked away with a smile. "And I daresay you have your own thoughts to contend with, without needing my interference."

"_Ah, there it is_," Severus thought to himself spitefully. "_Leave me to torture myself with my contradicting emotions while the boy is literally wrapped around me_."

Dumbledore stood near the fireplace as he looked amicably at the other two wizards. He knew that Severus would come around, it would just take time. Dumbledore would not meddle with the natural progression unless absolutely necessary.

"Goodnight, Severus," Dumbledore said as he ducked into the fireplace. "I would tell Harry goodnight, but-"

"It would be of no use," Snape cut in with impatience.

Dumbledore smiled again. With a nod, he disappeared into a wash of emerald flames.

"Goodnight then," Snape said quietly after his mentor had vanished.

Severus looked down at Harry and couldn't help but begin to feel angry. He was angry with Dumbledore for putting him in this position, and angry with himself for _allowing_ it. And he couldn't help but be mad with the boy whose subconscious decided to attach himself to the professor.

Snape knew that Dumbledore's approach would get the older wizard exactly what he wanted. Snape would torment himself with questions that he could not answer regarding Harry. Exhausted as he was, the Potions professor would not be getting any sleep that night.

Snape's hard gaze softened as he continued to look at the slumbering Harry Potter. He was not used to seeing the boy so… serene. There was no anger lining his face, no hurt in his young eyes. The boy was not stirring or breathing quickly as he had been when the professor observed him having a nightmare. Harry was having a moment of rare peace. And what was even more unusual, Severus was finding his inner most thoughts wanting to keep the boy this way. Without guilt over people he'd lost or being worried of the war that was destined to come.

Snape's hand, seemingly of its own volition, began brushing the boy's messed hair out of his face. Realizing what he was doing, the dark-cloaked wizard pulled back as his jaw clenched with trepidation.

"_Blasted Harry Potter_," he thought to himself. "_Even in his sleep he manages to get under my skin._"

To be continued…


	10. With all the worries

Chapter 10: With all the worries that occupy the back of my mind

Professor Snape woke with a start. Confusion filled his groggy mind as heavy-lidded eyes took in his surroundings.

He looked to the muggle clock that was hanging on his wall. He decided it was necessary to own one what with living in the dungeons and not being able to tell what time of day it was. The clock read "7:14".

Snape yawned. It seemed he did end up getting a little sleep after all, even if it was only a couple of hour's worth. The last time he had peered at that clock it had read "5:02".

He then looked at the young teenager that was curled against his side. The boy was still sleeping peacefully.

"_Amazing_," Severus thought to himself.

Harry hadn't had another nightmare since Dumbledore left, which was about a full eight hours ago. As Snape wondered how that could possibly be, he ignored the implications of the small voice in his head. The one that was trying to tell him it was his very presence that calmed the boy so much.

Snape's brow furrowed as he looked back to the boy. He needed to get up, but didn't want to wake Harry just yet. A small smile then curved on his lips as he took in Harry's appearance. The Boy-Who-Lived, the Great Harry Potter and supposed savior of the wizarding world had dried drool stuck to his face underneath his gaping mouth.

"Charming," Snape mused. The wizard used his free arm to perform a cleansing charm on the boy's face.

Snape presumed that the boy felt the presence of magic even while he slept as Harry began rubbing at his face.

The action gave Severus a close up view of the scars on the boy's hand. "_I will not tell lies_," Snape read to himself. The same anger welled up inside of him that had a few days ago at the sight of the scars. He cursed under his breath at Dolores Umbridge. The type of punishment she had inflicted on Harry Potter had been banned _ages_ ago. Only someone who was truly heartless would ever subject a child to such torture.

Severus thought of all of the inventive threats he'd come up with for misbehaving students over the years. He'd certainly had some good ones. However, he would have turned himself into the Dark Lord himself before ever physically harming one of his students.

The professor's eyes were then drawn to Harry's forehead. He could just make out the lightening shaped mark underneath the wisps of messy hair. He decided that Harry hid the famous scar well under all of that hair. More proof to the contrary of his first impression of the boy. Harry was, indeed, not the showoff his father was. James Potter would have slicked his hair back every day just so that everyone could constantly get a good view. Not Harry, though. Harry did not want any part of the scars he had received. One he couldn't control and the other, Snape contemplated, his foolish Gryffindor bravery must have stopped him from reporting his mistreatment at Umbridge's hands. That same bravery was what had caused the boy to hide his hand and change the subject the other day when he noticed Snape looking at it.

Severus' forearm twitched just then, reminding him of his own dark mark. He and Harry were very similar in that sense. They were both connected to the Dark Lord and could feel his anger. Snape's scar, however, was his own doing. He had joined for the acceptance and the respect one commanded when being a Death Eater. And he couldn't deny the fact that it gave him a small amount of pleasure at the fear it instilled in others. That thought was cut short, however, as a frown lined Severus' face.

He had been a confused and teased teenager then. He just wanted Potter and his taunting friends to leave him _alone_. He had joined the Death Eaters out of desperation, and look where it had gotten him. If he could go back and undo all that had transpired since that fateful day, he would gladly do it. Nothing but tragedy had occurred since he made that decision. First, he had lost Lily's friendship and then, he had lost her _completely_. As a result, he was constantly on edge. His life was regularly at risk, pretending to be on the Dark Lord's side. He was always getting closer to that precipice of failure, which, he feared he might soon fall into. His life was dark and filled with sacrifice. Sometimes he plummeted so far into his act he felt as though he would be suffocated by it.

Snape found at that moment, however, he was breathing just fine. As he looked at the Boy-Who-Lived, nestled comfortably in his arms, he felt lighter. Both in the weight he felt lifting off of his shoulders and in contrast to how utterly dark his demeanor tended to be. Snape swallowed uncomfortably at the conclusion his mind was beginning to draw.

It was due to the… unease Professor Snape was beginning to feel that he decided it was time to get up. No rest for the weary, he had decided.

As though he had transfigured into a snake, the professor managed to slither his way out of Harry's hold without waking the boy. Severus couldn't help but chastise himself at the precautions he was continuing to take in order to make Harry Potter more comfortable.

"_Only while he is ill_," he kept telling himself. He had decided that once Harry had regained his health it would be just as easy to harass the teenager as it had always been.

The professor set about making some tea for himself, before heading to his private potions stores. He located a nourishing potion with ease, and then returned to Harry's side.

"Potter?" Snape questioned quietly.

"Hmmm?" came Harry's sleepy reply.

"I have something for you."

Harry's eyes blinked open. Snape could tell by the glazed look that covered the normally sparkling green of his eyes that the boy was definitely not yet fully conscious.

The teenager frowned in confusion. "What is it?" he asked, pointing at the vial Snape was offering.

"It's medicine." Snape paused and almost chuckled at the child-like face of disgust Harry was giving him at hearing the word 'medicine'. "Drink it, Potter. It will make you feel better."

Harry looked confused again as he met Snape's eyes. "Daddy, why do you keep calling me Potter? My name is Harry."

"Of course it is," Snape replied simply. He had to muster a large amount of self-control not to roll his eyes at the boy. "_So it's still Daddy, is it?_" he thought with annoyance. "Now I want you to drink all of this for me, okay? It's very important."

Shrugging, Harry took the vial and drank the contents quickly. His expression was one of being pleasantly surprised, and he smiled at Snape.

"It tasted just like pumpkin juice!" the young boy exclaimed excitedly.

The corners of Snape's mouth twitched into a smile. "Liked that, did you?"

Harry nodded excitedly. "Normally your medicine is really gross! Like the vomit flavor of-"

"Every Flavor Bean. Yes, I've been told," Snape cut in.

Harry looked sheepish. "Sorry, but it's true. How did you make this stuff taste so good?"

"Sorry," Snape began playfully, "that's a Potions master secret."

"Awww come on," Harry whined. "Will you teach me how to do it someday? Maybe when I'm older?"

Snape regarded the hopeful young face of the wizard before him. He felt an ache in his chest as he looked into those eyes, an ache that he could not ignore. "Yes," the professor began slowly, "I will teach you how someday."

Harry's face lit up. "Really? You promise?"

Snape smiled his first genuine smile in a long time. "I promise."

"Awesome!" the dream state, child-like Harry Potter exclaimed. The delirious boy then started dancing around the room in excitement.

Severus chuckled at the sight. "_If only the older version were that excited about potions_," he thought.

Harry slowed down his dancing as a thoughtful expression crossed his features. "Hey wait a minute," the boy began accusingly. "How come your medicine always tasted like vomit if you could've made it taste good?"

Severus smirked at the glare he was receiving from the teenager. "Now where would the _fun_ be in that?"

"That's not funny!"

Snape had no warning before the young boy jumped at him. Losing his balance, he toppled over and attempted to wrestle a mischievous Harry Potter off of himself. Snape thought about how ridiculous of a situation he was in right now. Harry-bloody-Potter was trying to _play_ with him? Oh, Merlin help him if Albus walked in right now. He decided there was only one way to get the boy off without harming him further. He managed to hold the boy up with one hand just long enough to reach into his cloak with the other and grab his wand.

"Wingardium Leviosa!" Snape shouted.

A wide-eyed Harry floated upward, allowing Snape to resume standing.

A smug look spread across the professor's face as Harry glared at him.

"That's not fair," the young boy whined.

"It's plenty fair," Snape replied simply.

"Let me down now?" the boy pleaded.

The professor smirked. "Do you promise not to jump on me again?"

Harry nodded in defeat before Severus set him on the ground.

"Now I think it's time for a certain little boy to get some rest." Snape's tone brooked no argument.

"Fine," Harry grumbled as he sprawled out on the couch.

Snape smiled to himself as he covered Harry with a thick blanket.

"Thanks, Daddy," Harry managed to get out around a yawn.

Despite his best efforts to ignore the statement, Severus still felt an uneasiness as he walked over to the tea pot and poured himself a cup. He then returned and sat down in the chair adjacent to the couch. He sipped quietly until he heard the steady breathing of a boy who was fast asleep.

* * *

The rest of the day had gone by surprisingly well. It seemed that as long as Professor Snape kept Harry close, the boy's nightmares were held to a minimum. However, he had been testing that theory for about an hour now, as Severus had retired to his library and left Harry in his bedroom. He decided that the boy would get a more restful sleep if he were lying down comfortably in bed. Plus, Severus had to admit to himself, he needed some bloody alone time.

The professor had also been spared the meddling of one Albus Dumbledore. Snape wasn't about to hold his breath though, he knew the headmaster would be showing himself before the day was done.

Severus took another sip of firewhiskey and leaned back in his chair. He continued reading and let his mind become completely absorbed with the material. He was truly beginning to feel at ease when he heard a familiar voice shout his name.

"Professor Snape!" the muffled voice from two rooms away shouted desperately.

"_Merlin help me, what is it this time?_" Snape quickly rose from his seat and rushed out of the library. As he hurried across the living area, Harry shouted again.

"Professor Snape! No!"

"_Well, at least there isn't any more of that 'Daddy' nonsense_," the professor thought as he flung open the door to Harry's room.

The scene that lay before Snape was startling. Harry was thrashing under the covers so violently, Snape had no doubt that the boy would knock himself unconscious.

As Snape rushed to Harry, several spells went through his mind. He first thought of performing _Incarcerous_but quickly decided against it, as Harry would probably thrash more at the feeling of being bound. Snape even, for the briefest of moments, considered _Imperio_. He dismissed that idea immediately as an unforgivable curse would be, well… unforgivable.

He reached the boy's side as he decided that non-magical action was required. He grabbed the boy's flailing arms and held them tight. Harry's feet continued to kick wildly, however, and his head flew from side to side.

"No! No, let go! Get away from me!"

"Potter!" Snape yelled over the boy's frantic pleas. "Potter! Calm yourself!"

Tears began seeping out from under Harry's closed eyelids. "No! Leave me alone! He's going to kill Professor Snape!"

The professor's eyebrows narrowed in determination. "Everything is okay! It's me, Professor Snape!"

"He's going to kill him!" Harry shouted back.

The boy made a valiant attempt to escape from Snape's clutches as he sat up and twisted his body away from the older man. The professor was too quick as he wrapped his arms around the boy, effectively pinning Harry's arms at his sides. Snape was breathing heavily as he held the trembling teenager close to himself.

"It's okay, Harry," the professor's baritone resonated. "It's going to be all right. I won't leave you."

Harry seemed to almost melt at these words as his body relaxed in the professor's arms. The teenager rested his head on Snape's shoulder, and Severus couldn't help but breathe a sigh of relief. He continued holding onto the boy as Harry's breathing evened out, signaling the nightmare had subsided.

Severus would later marvel at how naturally Harry Potter's first name had come out of his mouth. The differences between Harry and his father were so obvious now; Snape couldn't help but wonder how he had managed to blind himself to it for the preceding years.

/"You see what you expect to see, Severus."/

Snape scowled to himself as, once again, the words of Albus Dumbledore proved true.

The moment of peace between the two wizards would not last, however. Harry suddenly let out a roar of pain as he grabbed his forehead. As if on cue, Severus hissed through clenched teeth at the sting that began running up and down his forearm.

"_No, not now. Not now!_" Severus thought desperately as he held Harry tighter.

Harry began mumbling to himself, his pupils darting back and forth underneath closed eyelids. The young wizard was pushing his palm onto his forehead, his face lined with agony. He was no doubt having another nightmare, spurred by the pain as a result of the Dark Lord himself.

Harry began shouting again, shouting for Professor Snape.

The dark-robed wizard clenched his fist in an attempt to ease the pain that now engulfed his arm.

Severus Snape knew what he needed to do.

To be continued…


	11. Could it be?

Chapter 11: Could it be this misery will suffice?

A semicircle of dark, hooded figures stood quietly in a misty graveyard. Every head looked down as a lanky, reptilian appearing man walked past each individual. As he strode by his beady, snake-like eyes bore into the minds of his followers.

The air was still, deathly still, as Lord Voldemort carefully scrutinized each member of the Death Eaters.

The lanky, pale man walked to the front of the gathering. He turned and sat onto his throne-like chair, so that he could look down upon his followers and thus be heard and seen by all.

"Goyle," his voice called accusingly. "You were late. Explain."

A husky man stepped forward; his head bowing even lower as he began to explain himself.

"M-my Lord," he stammered, "Forgive m-me, My Lord. My father is v-very ill and I have b-been staying with him. Your summon came unexpectedly while I was tending to-"

Goyle went silent. Lord Voldemort had a look of concentration on his features. It was clear that he was performing Legilimency on the trembling man, in order to see if it was indeed the truth he spoke.

Goyle came back to reality suddenly, gasping as he fell to his knees.

"Good news Goyle, you will live tonight," Voldemort announced as if bored.

"Oh, oh thank you My Lord!" Goyle breathed as he bowed on the ground. "You are most merciful."

"However, tardiness is a pet peeve of mine, and I will have to make an example of you."

Goyle's eyes went wide. Before he had a chance to protest, his body began twisting grotesquely on the ground. The sound of the man's screams of agony were cut off with a wave of Voldemort's hand.

"Now then, onto a more pressing issue," Voldemort began, as though the scene before him was nothing out of the ordinary. "Severus, come stand at my side."

Several hooded heads snapped toward Snape's position in the semicircle, and they all watched as he stepped forward.

Severus inwardly smirked at the look of pure loathing he was earning from Lucius Malfoy. The blond wizard would give anything to be Lord Voldemort's right hand man. If only he knew that it was a position Snape didn't even want.

Severus carefully stepped around Goyle, who was still on the ground thanks to the silent Cruciatus curse the Dark Lord had cast on him. Snape couldn't help but feel sorry for the fool. He had been on the receiving end of the curse on several occasions, and it was nothing to take lightly. Another thirty seconds and Goyle would have completely lost his mind. As Severus approached Lord Voldemort's side, he couldn't help but wonder if the Dark Lord was going to take the punishment that far.

No sooner had that thought crossed his mind when Goyle's voice came back to him and his body stopped writhing. Whimpering, the husky man crawled back to his place in the semicircle and tried to stand on trembling legs.

"Pathetic," Voldemort spat as he watched Goyle rejoin the others.

The Dark Lord's gaze softened as his snake eyes regarded the dark-haired wizard who now stood to his right.

"Severus," his reptilian voice came out silkily. "You have good news this time."

The Dark Lord was not asking a question, it was a demand. A demand that Snape would fulfill to his Lord's liking, or suffer the consequences.

Snape looked into the commanding red eyes of his Lord. "Dumbledore thinks that you are close, and he fears it. The plan is working. The old fool will no doubt tire soon from being on edge, and then we can make our move."

Voldemort nodded. "Music to my ears, well done, Severus. You continue to remain most worthy to my cause."

Snape bowed his head in gratitude. It was rare to receive such a blatant compliment from the Dark Lord, and letting it go by unappreciated would be most foolish.

"You flatter me, My Lord," Snape commented through his dark hair, as his head remained bowed.

"Severus, your appreciation is noted. Now, resume standing tall. You are much more intimidating that way."

Snape did as he was told, not daring to question anything the Dark Lord commanded. As he looked at the other Death Eaters, he could see Lucius looking as though he were going to burst with jealousy.

"You should all look to Severus as an example," Voldemort continued the praise. "His work alone outweighs the rest of your pathetic attempts to please me."

"My Lord I must protest!" Lucius blurted out. The blond haired man then slapped a hand over his mouth at realizing what he had done.

Voldemort glared and Lucius was on the ground. This punishment lasted only for ten seconds (an eternity to whomever the Cruciatus curse was cast upon) and Lucius regained his composure, breathing heavily.

"Interrupting your Lord, Lucius? You should know better. Let that teach you to hold your tongue." Voldemort scanned the faces of the other Death Eaters before his gaze returned to Lucius. "Out of curiosity alone, I must inquire as to why you felt it so urgent to speak."

Lucius remained trembling, both from fear, and the aftershock of the Cruciatus.

"Speak now," Voldemort commanded.

"Yes, M-my Lord," Lucius began as he stepped forward. "I felt it most important to inform you that my son, Draco, has spotted Harry Potter heading to Severus' office _alone_ on many separate occasions!"

The group of Death Eaters gasped and looked to Severus, as though expecting him to be struck down immediately. Snape's demeanor was one of indifference, however, as he looked at Lucius' triumphant face levelly.

"Indeed?" Voldemort questioned dangerously as he looked to Severus. "Is what Malfoy speaks the truth?"

Snape met the Dark Lord's gaze. "Dumbledore had requested that I resume Occlumency lessons with the boy again. I could not refuse, as it would raise suspicion, My Lord."

Voldemort nodded thoughtfully before suddenly looking deep into Snape's eyes.

Severus was on his knees in an instant. However, always cunning, Snape had expected this. He had cleared his thoughts of all memories of Harry except for those of him teaching the boy.

As Voldemort ended his Legilimency, he appeared satisfied with what he had seen.

Severus panted heavily at the Dark Lord's side as he entered the real world once again.

"You speak the truth, Severus," Voldemort began. "I trust you have a good reason for not immediately informing me of these lessons?"

Snape could not ignore the dangerous tone the Dark Lord was aiming at him. He kept his composure, nonetheless.

"It was not of importance. The boy is no threat at the moment and remains a disastrous Occlumens."

Voldemort nodded his head solemnly. "Be that as it may, your failure to inform me remains just that. A failure."

Lucius Malfoy watched with glee as Severus Snape's body fell to the ground.

* * *

Warm.

Warm and comfortable.

Warm and comfortable _and_ pain free.

Those were the first sensations that registered within Harry Potter's groggy mind as he came back to reality. He kept his eyes closed for the moment, worrying that the wonderful feelings would go away if he opened them. His tired mind thought that perhaps feeling this good was only another dream. If that was the case, he didn't want to wake up from it.

He shifted slightly, slowly becoming more aware of his surroundings even as his eyes remained closed. He could hear a fire crackling in front of him and he could feel the heavy weight of the blankets that covered him. It was then that he began to hear the soft breathing of another person to his right, and the pages of a book said person was turning.

Harry realized that he was definitely no longer dreaming. He turned his head to the right before struggling to open his eyes. His vision was blurry as a result of both his fatigue and the absence of his glasses. Despite his obscured sight, he could still make out the long white beard and pointy hat of the wizard that sat next to him.

"Professor Dumbledore?" his young voice choked out. He hadn't realized how dry his throat was until he tried to speak.

Dumbledore almost jumped at the sound of Harry's voice, he had been so engulfed in his reading. "Harry m'boy!" he exclaimed in excitement as he set his book aside. The older wizard leaned forward thoughtfully, lowering his voice. "How are you feeling?"

"Thirsty," Harry squeaked.

Nodding, Dumbledore conjured a glass of water and handed it to the young wizard.

Harry sat up on one elbow and drank with fervor. He handed the glass back once he had finished and sat back into his pillows. "Thanks," Harry said softly as he reached over for his glasses.

"_Now_ how are you feeling?" Dumbledore questioned softly.

As Harry put on his glasses, a feeling of clarity took over his mind as well as his vision. He had no idea what was going on. He was still in Snape's chambers, that much he knew. But where was Snape? And why was he sleeping when Dumbledore was there? And _why_ was Dumbledore there?

Harry looked to the older wizard, his face a mask of confusion. "Professor, what is going on?"

Dumbledore looked at Harry evenly under his half-moon spectacles. "Tell me, Harry, what is the last thing you remember?"

Harry's head hurt. He was so tired and confused; he wished Dumbledore would just tell him what was happening. Instead, he racked his brain for his last memory. There were a lot of things he thought he remembered, but those may have just been dreams. Then, it hit him. Pain, there was an immense pain in his back. Then he was falling to the ground and then, nothing.

"I-I remember my back hurting really bad. And then I think I passed out or something." Harry's face was an open book to the true confusion he felt.

Dumbledore nodded. "Yes, Harry, you did pass out. Professor Snape found you on the floor in the other room when he returned from teaching his morning class yesterday."

Harry's head was wheeling. "Wait, his morning class? Yesterday? I've been asleep for almost two days?"

Dumbledore nodded again. "You passed out because some of your wounds had become infected. It was blood poisoning, a rather severe condition, Harry. It was lucky Professor Snape found you when he did."

Harry couldn't hide the embarrassment he felt flushing onto his cheeks. He had passed out and Snape had found him? Not only that, but Snape knew the reason he passed out was because he had forgotten to drink all of the potion the older wizard had provided. Snape must have thought he was the biggest fool that ever walked the earth.

Dumbledore could see the embarrassment Harry felt. "Don't worry, Professor Snape is not mad at you. In fact, he will be most relieved to find out that you are okay."

Despite feeling mortified, Harry couldn't help but let his curiosity get the best of him. "Where is Professor Snape, sir?"

Dumbledore leaned back into his chair as he exhaled heavily. "I'm afraid he was called to a Death Eaters meeting about a half hour ago. He called me down to watch over you in his absence."

Harry was feeling several conflicting emotions. He was worried for his professor after what had happened to him the last time he was called to one of those meetings. He was also even more confused and embarrassed at what Dumbledore had said. "Watch over me?" he questioned slowly. "You mean Snape's been watching me for the past two days?"

Dumbledore sighed. "_Professor_ Snape, Harry. And yes, in fact, he was quite concerned for you. You were having these dream-like episodes you see, a very common result of blood poisoning."

Harry paled. "Episodes? What do you mean?"

Dumbledore had to strain to catch every word as Harry had questioned him so quickly. "Do you remember anything? Any of your dreams?"

Harry blew out an annoyed breath. Why wouldn't Dumbledore just tell him? "No, not really. I remember feelings, but not any actual dreams."

"Feelings? How so?" Dumbledore questioned.

"I don't know. I remember feeling frightened, and then safe. Cold and alone, and then warm and comforted," Harry's eyes narrowed as he spoke. "Why? What happened?"

The older wizard put his hands up in a placating gesture. "Now Harry, there's nothing to be concerned about. You cannot be held responsible for what you dream anymore than you could be for your true feelings."

Harry's mind was racing again, trying to find his way through the puzzling way Dumbledore was speaking. "My true feelings? Not held responsible for? Professor Dumbledore, _what_ is going on?"

Dumbledore sighed deeply as his hands clasped together on his lap. "Something has transpired between you and Professor Snape since you arrived at Hogwarts this year. I think he is beginning to see you in a new light, although he would never admit to it."

Harry scrubbed his hands over his face in annoyance. "What did I do?"

"Harry," Dumbledore began slowly, "when I came by to visit yesterday, I walked in while you were having one of your dreams. You were dreaming that Professor Snape was your father."

Harry's jaw dropped. "What?"

"Just what I said, m'boy. You were dreaming that he was your father."

Harry was horrified. "I was dreaming that… Snape was my-? I can't believe Professor Snape put up with me during that. He hates my father."

Dumbledore shook his head. "No, no, Harry, you misunderstand. You were dreaming that _he_, Severus Snape, was your father."

Harry blew out a breath as his head dropped into his hands. "Bloody hell," he mumbled.

Harry didn't need to ask any more questions, he already knew in his head what had happened. He had felt scared, then safe? Cold, then warm? He knew what the professor had done for him while he dreamt. The same thing the older wizard had done that night he had his nightmare. He was so humiliated he just wanted Dumbledore to leave, and if not leave, then at least stop staring at him with concern. He wanted to change the subject, and he suddenly thought of just how to do it.

"So why are you here, Professor? I thought you were too busy to come see me?" his words came out cold and accusing. Somewhere inside he wanted Dumbledore to feel hurt, the way he had made Harry feel the other day.

Dumbledore's eyes showed the guilt he felt inside. "I apologize, Harry. The last thing I wanted was to hurt you."

Harry nodded. Deep down he knew Dumbledore must have had a good reason. Now he felt guilty for speaking so harshly to one of the adults he looked up to most. He knew the older wizard would never intentionally hurt him.

"I've been very busy, m'boy. Professor Snape has been keeping me informed of Voldemort's whereabouts, and we fear he is planning an attack. I know I already explained all of this in my letter..."

Dumbledore trailed off as Harry's head snapped back up. "Sir, Professor Snape is at a meeting right now? Do you think he is okay? I mean, after what happened last time…"

Dumbledore sighed. "I don't know, Harry. It seems Voldemort's patience is wearing thinner and thinner these days."

Harry nodded somberly. The sudden overwhelming concern he felt for his professor was hard to ignore. The Boy-Who-Lived couldn't deny the respect that he felt growing for the older wizard after gaining the knowledge of what his professor had done for him. There were other emotions he was beginning to attach to Professor Snape as well. Comfort, safety, and bravery were among them.

For some reason, Harry began to feel afraid. He was again attaching himself to a possible parental figure, and that person may just as easily be torn from his life as his parents and Sirius were. Harry shook the thought from his head. This was Professor Snape he was thinking about. If there was one person in the entire wizarding world who could take care of himself, it was Snape.

There was a noise from the other room then. A loud crash followed by a dull thud.

Dumbledore looked at Harry quickly. "Stay here, m'boy. I'll return shortly."

As the headmaster hurried out of the bedroom, Harry yanked back his covers and followed behind him quietly. He did not want to disobey Dumbledore, but his concern for Professor Snape outweighed the guilt he felt at not listening to the headmaster.

Harry stood in the doorway of the living area, watching quietly as Dumbledore kneeled to the floor. The couch obscured his view, but he could hear the headmaster whispering softly. After what seemed like hours, Dumbledore rose again. He now had a very disheveled and pale Severus Snape leaning heavily on him.

Harry let out the breath he had not even realized he had been holding. Snape may have looked awful, but he was alive. Dumbledore's back was to him as he helped the dark-cloaked wizard sit in the armchair by the fire. His professor's weary head lifted as he sat and he caught Harry's eye. The Boy-Who-Lived wasn't sure, but he thought he saw a smile curve on Snape's lips before he looked away.

To be continued…


	12. Simple souvenir of someone's kill

Chapter 12: I've become, a simple souvenir of someone's kill

Harry Potter watched the scene that unfolded before him with amusement. It was rare that he got to see Professor Dumbledore "mother" someone. And it was even rarer for that someone that was _allowing_ the mothering to be Severus Snape. Well, not so much allow, but it was impressive that Snape was not striking down the white-bearded wizard where he stood.

Harry continued to wait in the doorway and thus, remained unnoticed by Dumbledore.

"Albus, I'm fine," Severus insisted as Dumbledore continued to fuss over him.

"You most certainly are not, m'boy. How long did he hold you under this time?"

Snape waved the older wizard off with a grimace on his face. "Twenty seconds, tops."

Harry couldn't see Dumbledore's face, but he had a feeling there was a reprimanding expression on it.

"I don't like this, Severus. This is becoming too dangerous. This is the fourth meeting in a row you have returned from injured."

Severus closed his eyes. "I don't think this is the time to discuss this, Albus." Then with a smirk, he added, "You are being overheard."

Dumbledore's eyebrows went up as he turned and spotted Harry.

Harry looked sheepish. "I'm sorry, professor. I didn't mean to disobey. I was just…" he trailed off, not quite able to speak what was on his mind.

"Worried?" Snape's voice questioned from his armchair. "I'm touched."

Harry couldn't decide if the statement was sarcastic or not, and that bothered him.

Dumbledore smiled softly. "Well, come join us then, Harry. No need to linger in the doorway."

Harry walked slowly toward the older wizards. Once he reached Snape's side, he sat on the couch and looked his professor over carefully.

"So you are okay then, right?"

Severus couldn't help but feel unease at the genuine worry in the boy's voice. He would not let it show, however, as he placed that infamous smirk on his features. "Never been better, _Harry_."

Harry's eyes widened. Now that _had_ been sarcasm, all except for the last part. The part that should have been spoken with distaste was not. Professor Snape had actually just used his first name. Harry couldn't help but gape.

Severus looked at the boy out of the corner of his eye. Harry's expression of awe was just what Snape was going for. "_Good, now _he's_ the one on edge_," he thought to himself. But before he could relish in his victory too much, he began to notice how healthy the boy looked. Harry looked well rested, and his skin was no longer that ghastly pale color. "It's good to see you've recovered. How do you feel?" Snape asked sincerely. "_And why am I being so nice!"_

Harry was blown away. Snape actually used his first name and now he was asking him how he felt? Maybe Dumbledore was right, maybe something _was _happening between them. Something that would take some getting used to, but also something Harry couldn't help but like.

"I feel good, sir. A little dizzy, but good."

Snape nodded in understanding before turning his head to look forward again. "That is normal. It will wear off in a few hours."

Nodding, Harry caught Dumbledore's eye. The older wizard's eyes were twinkling as he gave Harry a smile. The Boy-Who-Lived knew that Dumbledore was silently reminding him what he had aforementioned about Professor Snape, and Harry sheepishly returned the smile.

Snape could sense the tenderness that was taking place behind his back, and it was making him queasy. "Really, you two," the dark-cloaked wizard interjected as he pinched his brow. "I'm quite nauseous enough, thank you."

Dumbledore snorted in amusement. "Yes, yes, indeed Severus. I believe I will take my leave then, now that I know you are all right. But do not think I've left you off the hook," the headmaster added with a pointed expression. "We will continue our earlier conversation soon."

Severus sighed. "I don't doubt it, Albus."

Harry felt nervous all of the sudden. It was much easier to be around the new, unfamiliar Snape when Dumbledore was there. He didn't know how to handle the situation once the older wizard had gone. "But, sir," he began quickly, "wouldn't you like to stay and have some tea?"

Snape raised an eyebrow at Harry as Dumbledore made his way to the fireplace.

"Normally, I would be more than happy to, my boy," the headmaster replied as he grabbed some Floo powder. "But I know that Severus needs to rest, as do you, Harry."

A look of desperation crossed Harry's features, despite trying to hold it in.

Severus caught the look easily. "What's the matter, Harry? Afraid I'm going to bite?" Snape asked menacingly. "_This is too fun_," he thought to himself.

Harry put on his bravest face. "Of course not, sir. I just thought that Professor Dumbledore might want to stay a little while longer." Then his thoughts added, "_Like, maybe forever._"

Severus smirked and Dumbledore smiled as he regarded his two younger wizards.

"Well thank you for the invitation, but I really must be off. Goodnight then, to the both of you," Dumbledore added with a twinkle as he disappeared in a wash of flames.

Harry looked nervously from where the headmaster had vanished to his professor.

Snape blew out a breath as he attempted to stand on shaky legs. "I thought he'd _never_ leave."

Harry immediately stood with his professor, hands out in preparation to help the older wizard. One glare from Snape, however, made the Boy-Who-Lived drop his hands to his sides.

Severus began walking shakily, and very slowly, toward a cabinet on the opposite wall.

Harry watched with a pained expression. "Sir?" he began carefully. "I can help you get-"

"I'm quite capable of walking on my own," Snape cut in, though the obvious discomfort that lined his face proved otherwise.

Severus finally made it to the cabinet, and proceeded to grab a bottle of firewhiskey as well as a glass. Normally, he would have simply summoned the items to himself. However, after being struck with the Cruciatus curse, he had found in the past it was best to get the blood flow going again. As he made it back to his seat, he sat down heavily in his chair, a grunt escaping his lips as he did so.

Harry sat back on the couch and watched in silence. He was hoping Snape would be the one to break the ice, as he was suddenly at a loss for what to say. Although, that was not completely true. There was plenty Harry _wanted_ to say, but nothing that he could bring himself to voice. His thoughts continued to stir in his head as he watched Professor Snape drink from his glass. "_What should I say? Sorry I fainted? Thank you for taking care of me? I know I must have been a lot of trouble while I dreamed you were my father? Thanks for holding me while I was acting like a frightened four-year-old? Bloody hell!_" Harry sighed as he put his head into his hands.

"Something on your mind?" Snape's questioning voice came out of nowhere.

Harry's head snapped back up to find that Snape was still looking forward.

"Yeah-no," was the dignified response Harry managed to utter.

"Yeah-no?" Snape smiled as he turned to look at the young wizard.

Harry's cheeks flushed under his professor's gaze.

"Well? Which is it? Is there something on your mind, _yes_ or _no_?" Snape was not sure why he was pressing the issue for conversation. "_The firewhiskey must be getting to me already_," he mused.

Harry ran his hand through his hair nervously. He really wanted to thank his professor, but he couldn't figure out just how to do it yet. He decided instead to change the subject to something else he was curious about. "What happened tonight, professor? Why did Voldemort hurt you this time?"

Snape's mouth pressed into a thin line. The boy's tone was soft, and caring, and for some reason Severus couldn't bring himself to lash Harry with an insult. "Let's just say that Draco Malfoy is becoming a little bit _too_ much like his father for my liking."

Harry was very confused. "What do you mean? Was Draco at the meeting?"

Snape grunted as he shifted in his chair. "No, no, the little brat saw you coming into my office after hours and told his idiot father all about it." Why did he just say that? Why did he basically just tell Harry Potter he truly disliked the Malfoys?

Harry's eyes widened in surprise at those words. Snape didn't like the Malfoys? So it _was_ just another part he played in his double life? Of course! How could he have been so stupid? Harry was about to voice his thoughts when Snape started talking again.

"Of course, Draco never would have known had _you_ been more cautious."

His voice was cold, and accusing. Harry lowered his head at the guilt he felt. He hadn't even thought of that. Even though he couldn't remember ever seeing Draco when he was heading to the dungeons, the Slytherin must have been there. Snape could have been killed tonight because of his carelessness.

Severus immediately regretted his words as he watched Harry's expression fill with remorse. He had only meant to cover up his tongue slip, not blame the whole horrible evening on the boy.

"I didn't mean-he would have seen anyway-I'm sure you were careful," Snape groped to find the right words. He was not used to attempting to appease a young mind, and it showed in the uncharacteristic way he fumbled over his words.

Harry's head continued to hang low as he spoke softly. "No, you're right. I've been nothing but trouble for you this whole week. First you're forced to live with me, then I pass out and you had to take care of me, and now I almost caused your death."

Severus straightened in his chair and he looked at Harry levelly. "I did not _have_ to take care of you, Harry. I _chose_ to."

Harry's eyes rose to meet those of his professor. The young wizard's face held a quizzical, almost hopeful expression.

Snape cleared his throat. "I thought it of importance you know that." He watched as the young boy's mouth twisted into a smile. Much to his own surprise, Snape found himself returning the gesture. "_Damn! What is this boy doing to me?"_

Harry felt warmth spreading through his chest. It was not a feeling he was used to, but one he couldn't help but enjoy. Professor Snape was being so kind, and for a fleeting moment Harry thought he must have been dreaming. As he looked around the room and realized he could focus on everything with great detail, he smiled to himself again. He was not dreaming. Everything was real including his professor, who was now pouring himself another drink.

Harry watched with interest as his professor seemed to relax into his chair more and more with every sip of whiskey. He couldn't help but compare Snape's calm demeanor to the opposite way Vernon Dursley would act when he drank. He couldn't stop the shiver that ran down his spine at the thought of how much more brutal his uncle's words and punishments were whenever they were accompanied with a drink.

Feeling anxious at the thought of his uncle, he forced himself to observe Professor Snape again. Snape had never physically hurt him, and for the past week had gone above and beyond the duties of a professor to take care of him. Harry was truly beginning to see his professor in a new light, and he was starting to feel comfortable enough around the wizard to say so.

"Professor Snape, I wanted to thank you," the Boy-Who-Lived began seriously.

Severus took his eyes off of the hypnotizing flames of the fire to meet Harry's gaze. With an opening sentence such as that, he knew what the boy had to say was bound to be interesting.

"For what?"

Harry swallowed before continuing. "I can't even imagine what I put you through while I was dreaming over the past day and a half. Well, other than what Professor Dumbledore told me," he added as a flush of embarrassment rose to his cheeks. "And the fact that you _chose_ to stay with me instead of passing me off to someone else, it-well it means a lot, sir."

Snape's chest rose slightly as he inhaled deeply. "You are not used to having someone that is there for you when you need them most?" It came out as a question, but Snape already knew the answer.

Harry lowered his gaze as he shook his head slowly.

Snape nodded as he continued to watch the young teenager. "It seems, Harry, that you and I are not so different."

Harry looked back up and met his professor's eyes. He wanted the older wizard to continue, to explain to him how they were similar. Had his parents died when he was young? Why did the man just admit to him that he knew what it meant to be neglected? Harry was aching to hear more, but as Snape turned to look back at the fire he figured he should have known better. Professor Snape was such a private person; it wasn't as though he was about to give Harry his entire life story. Harry began to feel foolish to think otherwise. However, there was no harm in asking a question was there? Something that he had been wondering for quite some time… ever since the incident that took place last year. But before he could ask anything, he knew there was something he should say first.

"Professor?"

Snape turned to look back at Harry. "Yes?"

"I'm sorry," Harry said with as much meaning as he could.

Snape's eyebrows narrowed in confusion. "Regarding what?"

Harry bit his lip nervously. "For when I looked in the pensieve last year," he spit out quickly.

Snape tensed at the thought of the memory Harry had witnessed, but did not reply.

Harry fidgeted at the silence that now consumed the room. "I wanted you to know that I never meant to look into your private thoughts. I only wanted to find out what it was Professor Dumbledore was keeping from me. But once I started watching the memory, the idea of seeing my father and Sirius and well, even you, when you were all my age… it sucked me in."

Severus blew out a breath. The boy sounded sincere enough, but still… "I can understand that you were tempted, but the fact remains that you had no business sticking your nose where it does not belong."

Harry bit his lip. "I know. But no one would tell me _anything_, it was driving me insane."

Snape smirked. "Yes, it must have been, for you to have risked facing my wrath once you were caught."

Harry smiled nervously. Snape had been so angry; he had never seen his professor that mad. He hoped he'd never have to witness that side of the dark-cloaked wizard again. Well, so long as the anger was not directed at him. And yet, even when he was that infuriated, he did not lay a hand on Harry. The Boy-Who-Lived smiled to himself as, for some reason, that thought was very settling to him. Harry was not done saying what he wanted to say though, and he would finish if it killed him.

"I also wanted you to know that I couldn't believe how my father behaved. Everyone always told me how great he was, but no one ever mentioned the fact that he was a bully."

Snape glared at Harry levelly, not wanting to relive the memory anymore than he already had. "Is that all, then?"

"I never told anyone about it, sir. Not even Ron and Hermione."

Snape was taken aback at the seriousness of Harry's words. They proved more so that the teenager was indeed ashamed of what his father had done, and not proud of it as Snape had first assumed when he found Harry in the pensieve. The boy also remained respectful of his privacy by not telling, despite the fact that he looked in the first place, but Snape now knew it was for another reason that the boy felt he had to investigate.

Severus began to feel foolish as he considered his thoughts. Of course the boy would side with him, he was more like Lily then Snape ever could have imagined. He had learned that to be true over the past few days of being practically chained to the teenager. As Snape looked back at Harry, deep down in his heart he knew that the boy would not go brag to his friends about the embarrassing memory he saw. Because Harry was like Lily, protector of the demoralized, and _that _was something Snape had known to be true since the day Harry walked into his life.

Severus inhaled deeply before locking eyes with the teenager before him. "You may look like your father, Harry, but you've inherited your mother's heart."

Harry sucked in a breath at those words and the meaningful gaze of Snape's that accompanied them. He didn't think he'd ever received a greater compliment in his life. He smiled widely at his professor before his mind began focusing on something else. His mother had stood up for Snape rather valiantly that day, and when the professor spoke of her, his tone held an uncharacteristic tenderness.

"Were you and my mother friends then, professor?"

It was Snape's turn to fidget uncomfortably. He had let this conversation go much too far for his liking. So why then did he feel compelled to answer? He took another sip of his drink, and decided to chalk it up to the alcohol. He knew, however, that it was because of something else, something bigger, that he decided to answer.

"Yes, we were. Good friends."

Harry's brow knitted with confusion. "So, why did you call her a Mudbl-?"

"Don't say it!" Snape spat. And then, at the shocked look Harry was giving him, his voice relaxed. "Never say that word, Harry." He took another sip of firewhiskey before thinking to himself "_It ruined my life_."

"Sorry, I-" Harry cut himself off. Something was off here. Snape had a look on his face that showed deep regret, and Harry couldn't help but wonder what the man's true feelings were for his mother.

"I was the first person to tell your mother that she was a witch, you know."

Harry looked up, surprised that Snape wanted to continue the topic.

"She thought I was insulting her," the professor continued with a small smile. "To muggles the term 'witch' coincides with calling someone mean or nasty. It took me a couple of tries to get her to talk to me again after that."

Harry chuckled, "I'll bet." His smile at Snape's memories of his mother quickly went away, however, as another thought filled his head. "It's not right, you know?"

Harry's serious tone brought Snape out of his reverie. "What?"

Harry looked up and Snape was unnerved to see there were tears in the young boy's eyes.

"It's not right that I never even knew them."

Snape continued to look at Harry. "No, it's not."

Harry felt at a loss for words. He was feeling the nagging want to be comforted, just as Snape had done for him before. At that thought, Harry cursed himself for his childishness. He was sixteen after all! He didn't need to be coddled like a four-year-old! Despite the fact that even at the age of four, he never received any type of comfort, physical or verbal.

Severus could read Harry's thoughts easily. The boy's eyes were all but begging for consolation. Snape's heart was telling him to reach out, to provide the boy with what he so plainly needed. But his brain was saying the opposite. Severus couldn't be sure why, but at that moment he decided he should let his heart do the leading for once.

Harry's head was in his hands, his eyes closed tightly as he tried to will away the images of his parents from his mind. He had no idea the professor had moved from his seat until he felt the couch shift from the weight of another body next to him. Harry looked up through bleary vision to see the dark look of understanding pouring from his professor's onyx eyes.

Harry put his head back into his hands ashamedly and Snape continued to look at the boy thoughtfully. Even as his arm managed to gently snake around the boy's shoulders, Snape couldn't help but ask himself what it was he thought he was doing. Briefly, he considered pulling back, but it was too late. The second his arm rested on the young boy, Harry pressed his face into Snape's shoulder and wrapped his arms around the man's torso.

Severus inhaled sharply at the contact. The boy was not having a nightmare, nor was he semi conscious. Harry was fully aware of what he was doing and whom he was doing it to and yet, the boy held on with fervor.

Snape had decided that this was too much; he couldn't let Harry emotionally attach himself in such a way. He was about to open his mouth to say so when he began to feel the quaking of Harry's silent sobs against his body. Snape swallowed as he realized at that moment, he was simply in too deep to walk away. Severus wrapped his arms around Harry tighter and held the Boy-Who-Lived well into the night.

* * *

Harry had long since gone to bed, and Severus continued to sit by the fire and sip at his firewhiskey. He was alone with his thoughts, and his thoughts were haunting him. He should not have done that. He shouldn't have comforted the boy in such a way. His actions would only cause Harry to look up to him more so, and he had decided to extinguish such feelings from the boy. Snape had made his choice when he went to the Death Eaters meeting. He knew what he needed to do, and that was to protect the boy in every aspect of the word.

In Severus Snape's mind, there was only one way to do that.

To be continued…


	13. Changing from calm to ill

Chapter 13: And like the sea, I'm constantly changing from calm to ill

Monday morning's Potions class had arrived, and Harry had shown up extra early. As he sat in class alone, his leg bounced up and down in nervous anticipation. He had sent Ron and Hermione a message the night before requesting that they show up early as well. He hadn't seen his friends since before his blood poisoning episode, and he figured they must be anxious to know what was going on. He planned on telling them about the whole ordeal, but there were obviously some parts he would have to leave out. He also couldn't risk anyone overhearing, which was why he had decided on the Potions classroom. Nobody showed up early to _this_ class, and it would be the perfect place to have some privacy.

"Harry, _where_ have you been?" Hermione commanded as she and Ron walked in and sat down on either side of him.

"Yeah, mate," Ron chimed in. "We asked Dumbledore, but all he would say was that you were sick and couldn't have any visitors. Are you all right?"

"Well, he was telling the truth," Harry began. "And I'm much better now, but you guys are not going to believe what happened the last couple of days."

Both Ron and Hermione's eyebrows shot up in anticipation.

"Well, what happened then?" Ron asked impatiently.

"It all started when I erm, well, I passed out because of blood poisoning," Harry said sheepishly. He didn't want to say he "fainted" in front of Ron, but he was still embarrassed that he passed out.

Hermione gasped. "Harry! That's serious! How did you get blood poisoning?"

"_Oh crap_," Harry thought as his mind scrambled for an answer. "I didn't tell you guys, but the other night I went for a ride on my broom. It was dark and I accidentally hit a tree and got a nasty gash in my side." He finished with his lie and tried not to feel too guilty about it.

"Blimey!" Ron said excitedly. "Can I see it?"

Harry was about to protest when Hermione cut in.

"Ronald! Blood poisoning is ve_r_y serious! It's not something to be excited about!"

A sheepish look crossed Ron's face and Harry could have kissed Hermione. She just bailed him out of what could have been a disastrous situation.

"So, anyway," Harry continued, eager to tell his story before people started showing up. "I passed out, and apparently I might not be sitting here with you guys if Professor Snape hadn't found me."

Ron looked as though he were going to throw up while Hermione had a knowing look in her eyes.

"Ugh, Harry, what did he do?" Ron asked fearfully.

Harry couldn't help but beam. "You guys aren't going to believe this, but he volunteered to look after me."

"Sorry?" came Ron's shocked reply.

"Just what I said," Harry continued. "Madam Pomfrey had her hands full I guess and Snape said he'd do it. I was unconscious for a day and a half and he looked after me the whole time. Can you believe it?"

Hermione smiled. "What have I been saying all along? There's more to our snarky professor than meets the eye."

Harry nodded with a smile, but Ron still looked as though he were going to be sick. "You were unconscious, with _Snape_, for a day and a half?"

Harry nodded again, ignoring Ron's implications. "And that's not even the half of it. When I finally woke up, Snape was actually _kind_ to me. I don't think he insulted me once."

Hermione's smile spread even wider. "That's so wonderful, Harry!"

"Hold on a second," Ron cut in seriously. "You two are practically rejoicing because the git didn't insult Harry for a few _hours_?"

Harry's eyes narrowed. "And the rest of the weekend while I fully recovered!" he added defensively.

Ron laughed to himself. "Come on, Harry! One weekend does _not_ fix five years of being a monster."

"He's not a monster, Ronald!" Hermione whispered harshly as people began to filter in for class.

Ron looked disbelievingly between his two best friends. "Have you two gone _mad_? He's been nothing but horrible to Harry since he showed up!"

"He's _changed_, Ron," the Boy-Who-Lived said with determination.

Ron scoffed as he leaned back in his chair. "Yeah, right."

"You'll see," Harry stated as he sat back into his chair as well.

The classroom was almost full now, as the lesson was close to beginning.

Professor Snape glided into the classroom, silently noting who was present and who was not as he strode to the podium in front of the class. Wordlessly he began writing down the names of those who were tardy. His dark eyes then rose, and he began to scan the classroom with a look of indifference on his face. His gaze then rested on Harry, and Harry couldn't help but let a small grin line his face. The professor's cold stare then moved on without so much as a quirk of an eyebrow, and Harry couldn't help but feel anxious. He then inwardly reprimanded himself. "_What did you think? That Snape was going to give a big smile and wave to you in front of Draco?_"

"Potter! Weasley!"

Harry and Ron looked up sharply at Snape's commanding tone.

"Pretend, just for a moment," the professor drawled, "that you possess spines and _sit forward_!"

Both Gryffindors straightened immediately as Draco and his fellow Slytherins laughed. Harry threw Malfoy a glare, but he had to practically turn all the way around in his seat to do it.

Snape sighed at the front of the classroom. "Is it too much to ask that your eyes remain _forward_, Potter?"

Harry turned swiftly in his seat to meet the eyes of his professor once again.

Snape smirked at Harry. "If you are more interested in the back wall then in today's lesson, I'd be happy to arrange that you go sit and stare at it for the rest of the class."

Harry's cheeks flushed in embarrassment as the Slytherins all began laughing again. The Boy-Who-Lived searched his professor's face for any sign of a smile, something that would indicate he didn't want to act so rudely toward him, but the wizard's features remained stoic.

"Twenty points from Gryffindor, Potter, for disrupting my class so _early_ in the week," he finished exasperatedly.

Harry was confused. He knew that Snape couldn't be nice to him in front of Draco, but that didn't mean he had to go and humiliate him. He couldn't help but feel a twinge of disappointment, as well an aching in his chest.

The majority of the class continued to laugh, and Harry watched as the professor's eyes roamed the classroom.

"Silence," Snape's deep voice resonated.

The class immediately went quiet, their eyes looking at him as he regarded the class.

"Well?" he continued expectantly. When the students continued to gaze at him with confusion, he sighed again. "Class has been in session for several minutes now and _none_ of you posses the brain power to notice the ingredients are already on the board?"

The classroom fidgeted nervously as they continued to stare at their professor.

Snape shut his eyes tightly in annoyance before looking at his students once more. "Get to work!" he snapped.

The three friends shot out of their seats along with the rest of the class. All the students began scrambling to find their ingredients, and Harry and Ron kept getting shoved into each other as a result.

Ron leaned over to Harry and whispered out of the side of his mouth. "So when you said he's _changed_, did you mean his knickers? Because he seems like the same old nasty git to me."

Harry scowled as he gathered some Jobberknoll feathers for the potion. He didn't know why Snape had acted so cruelly toward him, but he was hoping it was just because his professor had to keep up appearances. He planned to find out, however, after class when no one else was around.

* * *

Harry's efforts to talk to Snape after class were fruitless. He had knocked on the door, asking through the thick wood if he could speak with him. The man had simply turned him away, claiming he was "too busy to deal with the nonsensical ramblings of a foolish Gryffindor."

The next few days were just as infuriating, as Professor Snape continued to dodge not only Harry's questions, but Harry himself. Even though he still resided in Snape's quarters, he never saw the man outside of class. Snape would barricade himself in his office, and then return to his quarters after Harry had gone to bed and leave before the Boy-Who-Lived would wake up. And any other time that Harry could tell, he would wander the hallways of Hogwarts. Or so, that's what it seemed like as Harry watched the name "Severus Snape" on the Marauder's Map. He felt a bit foolish for watching a name on a map for long periods of time, but he was beginning to feel an emptiness without the professor around. He didn't understand what was going on, why Snape had gone from being caring and comforting to completely ignoring him.

He had no idea how soon it would be that he would get his answer.

* * *

Harry left the Great Hall after lunch and began making his way towards his Divinations class. As he walked through the crowded hallway, he spotted a tall, dark man walking in his direction. Harry's breath caught in his throat. This was his chance. He just hoped Snape would have the decency not to blatantly ignore him when they were face to face.

Harry stood in front of the professor, effectively blocking his way. "Professor Snape, can I talk you for a minute?"

Snape looked down at Harry with annoyance. He did not like being cornered. "Move aside, Potter, I have work to do." Snape grabbed Harry's shoulder and gently shoved him aside as he continued on his way.

Harry felt his frustration build intensely. He didn't want to do this here, in front of all these people, but this was his first chance to talk to the professor in almost five days now, and he was going to take advantage of it. "Why is it back to Potter again? What did I do?" Harry shouted at his professor's back.

Snape tensed, his shoulders squaring as he shut his eyes tightly. "_Foolish boy! Asking such a question while Slytherins are present!_" he thought to himself angrily. Severus then rounded on Harry. He grabbed the boy by his shirt collar and flung him around the corner away from other student's prying eyes.

Harry gasped as his back connected with the wall behind him. His wide eyes looked up at his professor who was still holding him by his collar. Snape's eyes were dangerous, and his mouth contorted in anger as he began to speak.

"Make no mistake, _nothing_ has changed between us," Snape seethed. "It would serve you well to stop following me around like a lovesick puppy."

Harry's cheeks flushed with embarrassment. He was not a lovesick puppy! "How else am I going to get you to talk to me?" he asked angrily. "You're acting as though last week didn't happen."

Snape scowled. "I only watched over your pathetic arse because it was my duty. Do yourself a favor and stop reading into it."

Harry's felt his throat constrict at those words. "You told me you _chose_ to!"

Snape's eyes narrowed. "I lied."

"You're lying now!" Harry shouted desperately.

"I couldn't just let you die, so I brought your health back. That was all." Snape leaned in closer, whispering, "It meant nothing."

Harry's eyes filled with the hurt he felt. "You miserable, selfish git! It meant _everything_!"

The commotion had drawn quite a crowd at this point, and Severus was desperate to bring this whole thing to an end. He never wanted to hurt Harry, not in this way. But it was the only way to keep the boy safe. As he cast the _Muffliato_ spell around them so that the other students could not hear what he was about to say, he laid into the boy-who-lived. There would be no more outbursts from Harry Potter after this. He was about to crush the boy.

Snape loomed menacingly, his face coming within inches of Harry's. "Don't you get it?" he seethed. "You are a _constant_ reminder that she loved someone else! I can't even stand to look at you, let alone be this ludicrous "father figure" you've made up in your mind! I am not the fatherly type, Harry. I am a mean, selfish git, who would gladly throw you to the Dark Lord if I had not vowed to protect you."

"You don't mean that," Harry commanded.

Severus rolled his eyes at the young wizard. "I see I am not getting through to you. Fine," he began as he leaned in even closer, "you mean _nothing_ to me."

Harry felt anger beginning to replace his sorrow. His eyebrows narrowed as he gritted his teeth.

Snape could see the change in Harry's face immediately. "_Yes, yes_," he thought. "_That's it, hate me Harry. Hate me_."

Gathering all the strength he could muster, Harry pushed the professor off of himself. Throwing Snape a look of hatred, he stormed down the hallway past all of the shocked onlookers.

Severus remained, his expression inscrutable as the large crowd of students gaped at him. He walked forward, the group parting wordlessly as he made his way through the students. When he reached the end of the mass, he found himself standing over a beaming Draco Malfoy.

"I don't know what you said, professor, but good job. Potter _needed_ to be taken down a few pegs," the boy finished with a wide smile.

The corners of Snape's mouth curled as he heavily shoved Draco aside. "No doubt you'll tell your father _all_ about it," Snape called silkily over his shoulder as he walked away.

Draco paled. With a sideways glance at his retreating professor, he hurriedly walked away.

* * *

Snape made his way to his office, a walk he had been making more and more frequently it seemed. As he strolled the halls of Hogwarts, his mind continued to go over the choice he had made a few nights ago.

Severus Snape's decision had been harsh, but he knew it was one he had to make. He knew, somewhere deep inside of himself, that his charade with the Dark Lord would not continue forever. His injuries at the Dark Lord's hand had been occurring more often, and had become increasingly difficult to ignore. Before the war was done, whether he was found out or was simply relinquished of his duties, the Dark Lord would waste little time disposing of him.

He realized now, in his heart, that this was his main reason for not indulging Harry Potter's advances on him to play the part of guardian. He would not survive this war, and he would be yet another person in Harry's life that would end up leaving him. He couldn't hurt the boy like that. It was for this reason he had resolved to push Harry away.

It was not difficult to go back to being his horrible, snide, mean git of a professor. He was obviously used to playing the role. But before, it had been for an entirely different purpose. It had been to fool the Malfoys and all the other Death Eaters into believing he was on the Dark Lord's side. It had also been for more personal reasons. To distance himself from the son of his most hated classmate, and to eliminate the feelings of remorse that would swallow him when he looked into those damned green eyes.

As he settled himself at his desk and poured a glass of firewhiskey, his mouth tightened at the memory of those sparkling emerald eyes. What would Lily think of the way he was treating the situation? She would surely be against it, but she could not see firsthand the way her death, as well as James' and Sirius', had affected the boy. Snape would not add himself to Harry's list of disappointment, guilt, and grief.

It was an ironic situation, really. Severus had finally come to see the boy for who he really was. He liked Harry, cared for him deeply, in fact. And now that he had finally reached that point, the only option was to push him away.

He inwardly ached as he continued to drink his firewhiskey. The look in Harry's eyes was heartbreaking when he said those horrible things to the boy. What was even worse was that they were all horribly untrue.

* * *

A dejected Harry Potter sat in the Gryffindor common room. He rested in an oversized armchair as he gazed directly into the roaring fire. He was thinking he would have given anything to see Sirius' face appear in those flames at that moment. He realized with a guilty feeling that as he and Snape grew somewhat closer, he hadn't been thinking about his deceased godfather much at all.

Harry sighed deeply as he leaned forward, letting the warmth of the fire caress his face. Perhaps that had been the whole idea. His relationship with Snape had helped him ease away from missing Sirius so much. Was that necessarily a bad thing? Aren't people supposed to move on after they lose a friend? The way Snape had been acting toward him made Harry feel as though he had someone in his life that he could look up to again. Of course, there would always be Dumbledore, and Harry was very grateful for that. But the way Snape had been treating him was very… comforting.

At that thought, Harry's eyes narrowed as he recalled, for about the hundredth time in the last hour, everything that his Potions professor had growled at him that day. How could he have been so foolish? Thinking that Professor Snape was going to look after him, take care of him? Harry scowled as he threw a crumpled piece of paper into the fire.

His expression turned to one of sadness as he remembered what Snape had said to him a little under a week ago. "I _chose_ to," were his words, from his own mouth! Harry hadn't misheard him, but Snape said he had been lying. Why? Why even say it to begin with and fill his foolish mind with false hope?

As Harry leaned back into the plush chair, he decided that the whole ordeal must have been a very well thought out and clever plan made by his professor to humiliate Harry. Debasing Harry was one of Professor Snape's favorite pastimes, after all. As the Boy-Who-Lived continued to stare into the fire, a single tear rolled down his cheek as he wondered how he ever thought his professor's intentions could have been anything else.

To be continued…


	14. Madness fills my heart and soul

Chapter 14: Madness fills my heart and soul

Hermione Granger had faced a multitude of seemingly impossible tasks since she arrived at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. She had confronted the most daunting of situations and still come out on top.

So why did the thought of simply speaking with one of her professors make her more nervous than when she had dueled with Death Eaters the previous year?

Well, she mused, it wasn't as if she was just going to ask for help with homework. And the person with whom she wanted to speak did not typically offer a warm welcome. No, with Hermione, it always had to be much more complicated than that.

Hermione had watched one of her best friends fall deeper and deeper into depression over the last couple weeks, and she decided to take it upon herself to help. She had witnessed the way Harry's face fell when he was reprimanded publicly in potions class right after the Boy-Who-Lived had sworn Professor Snape had changed. She was also there when the two wizards argued, rather ardently, in the hallway. She had not heard the better part of the argument, but it did not matter. If Harry's face didn't give away the heartbreak her friend felt, then when she saw his tears in the common room later certainly did.

Hermione could feel her heart beat faster as she approached Professor Snape's office. She wasn't sure exactly what she thought she was doing, but she knew she had to try. She hadn't told Harry she planned on visiting their professor. She knew her friend would not admit to being upset and angry, and he would certainly insist she didn't open her mouth about it. Well, she had waited long enough. It had been another week since the explosive argument in the hallway, and neither Harry nor Professor Snape were going to admit that something was wrong.

The bushy-haired girl inhaled deeply before she began knocking on the door to Professor Snape's office. She could hear a rustling noise from within before the silky voice of her professor asked that she enter.

Hermione slowly opened the door to reveal Snape seated at his desk, doing paperwork of some kind.

Snape quirked an eyebrow as he watched the young girl tentatively walk toward his desk. "Ms. Granger, to what do I owe the honor?" his sarcasm poured out.

Hermione swallowed. Damn but the man was intimidating! "I just wanted to ask you something, professor," she replied as nonchalantly as she could.

Snape fixed her with a calculating gaze as she sat across from him. "Indeed? Surely it's not about your homework, as I've just finished grading your paper," he added as he held up the girl's work.

Hermione couldn't help but smile at the full marks she had received. "That's wonderful. I put hours into that paper," she added under her breath.

Snape's eyes narrowed. He really did hate the fact that this Gryffindor proved to be better at his Potions class than _any_ of his Slytherins. "It shows," he managed to choke out in spite of that fact.

Hermione's eyes went wide. Professor Snape just complimented her! Well, sort of. But still, maybe he wasn't in as foul of a mood today as he usually was. That gave her hope that he wouldn't hex her for what she was about to bring up…

"Sir, I wanted to talk to you. It's about Harry," she managed to spit out.

Severus looked up from his work and quirked an eyebrow at the young girl. "Potter? Well, what a surprise. Everything's always about him, isn't it?" Professor Snape rolled his eyes.

Hermione licked her lips nervously as she gathered her courage. "I think that you should talk with him."

"Regarding what?" Snape asked coolly.

"The argument you two had last week," Hermione stated simply.

The professor glared. "That is none of your concern."

"It is my concern," the girl came back.

"Enlighten me," Snape began seriously. "How is a private conversation between Potter and myself any of your business?"

Hermione fixed her gaze on Snape, not willing to show the fear she felt inside at confronting him in such a way. "Because Harry is my friend and I can tell that he is upset by this whole thing."

Snape rolled his eyes as he began organizing his paperwork. "You should know by now, Ms. Granger, that my words have little to no impact on Mr. Potter."

"That's not true!"

Snape fixed the girl with a cold glare and Hermione gave a frightened squeak as she realized she'd just shouted at her professor.

"W-what I meant was…" Hermione groped to find the right words. "Harry's opinion of you had changed, and your harsh words impacted him more than you think."

Severus knew that what Hermione spoke was the truth, but he couldn't force himself to face it. Harry wasn't upset anymore, he couldn't be. After what Snape had said to him how could the boy be feeling anything more than hate toward the professor? The boy couldn't possibly still want to have anything to do with him.

Snape stood from his chair as he gathered his pile of papers. "You are mistaken, Ms. Granger. Now if you're through wasting my time-"

"You're not listening!"

Hermione quickly shut her mouth as Snape slammed his stack of papers rather forcefully down on the desk. The Potions master then moved around his desk and loomed over the young girl.

"One more outburst like that, Ms. Granger, and you can be sure Gryffindor won't have any points left for me to take away the _next_ time you decide to open your mouth."

Hermione nodded her head slowly as Snape began to walk away. She wasn't going to give up though, not yet.

"Please, sir, you don't understand how hurt Harry was…"

Snape sighed in annoyance as he gathered his papers once again. "I highly doubt Potter takes anything _I_have to say to heart." He knew that was a lie, but it was one he was trying to pass off to himself as well.

"Then why did I find him alone and crying afterwards?"

Hermione gasped at her own declaration. It came out of her mouth before she even realized what she was saying! Oh, she shouldn't have said that. Harry would kill her if he ever found out what she admitted. However, when she looked back at her professor, he wasn't smirking as she was expecting. Professor Snape's face held an uncharacteristically disturbed look, as though he was very bothered by what Hermione had just said.

"Potter was… lament, you say?"

Hermione gazed at her professor levelly. His voice was very soft when he asked the question, and the girl couldn't help but inwardly beam. So her thoughts had been right! Hermione had guessed that Snape was pushing Harry away for a higher purpose than just to crush her friend. She wasn't sure as to what the reason was, but she could tell her professor didn't want to hurt Harry anymore than her friend wanted to hate Snape.

"Yes…" the bushy-haired girl answered slowly. "But please don't ever tell him I told you!" she added desperately.

Snape scoffed. "Your adolescent worries are the least of my problems."

Hermione wasn't quite sure what that meant, but she decided to press on. "So, you're going to talk to him then?" she asked hopefully.

"No."

Hermione gaped. "But, but professor! You can't mean that!"

Snape rounded on the young girl. "Did I stutter, Ms. Granger? Twenty points from Gryffindor for wasting my time!"

Hermione scowled. "That's not fair! I wasn't wasting your time!"

"That is a matter of opinion. Now get out of my office, you silly girl!"

Hermione's eyes filled with tears as she gathered her things.

Snape noticed the grief in the young girl, and he felt horrible. "_Blasted Gryffindors! Since when do I care how they feel?_" However, something inside him wanted to remedy the situation.

"You cannot possibly understand, Ms. Granger." His voice came out in a quiet, almost defeated tone.

"Oh, I understand," Hermione came back angrily. "I understand that you're too stubborn to do what you know is right!"

The girl slammed the door as she left, giving the professor no time for a retort or to ponder how very true her last statement was.

As Hermione stormed out of the office and through the halls, she knew she was not giving up. If Professor Snape wouldn't listen to reason, she knew someone who would.

* * *

As Harry walked toward the headmaster's office, he couldn't help but feel excited. He did not know the reason for being summoned and he found that he really didn't care. He hadn't seen the older wizard in a while and he was hoping that just the sight of him would brighten his spirits.

He couldn't deny that he'd been down lately because of the debacle with Professor Snape. He still felt humiliated, even disappointed, that he let the professor lead him on in such a way. However, there was another underlying emotion that Harry had been trying rather unsuccessfully to push away. He was still feeling extremely hurt. He had thought he'd found someone to confide in, and in the least likely of places! Someone who would be there for him and care for him in a way Harry had never known. When Harry ran over the events in his mind over and over again, he found he had every right to be confused by the whole situation.

As Harry entered the headmaster's office, he was faced with even more confusion. His eyebrows shot up in surprise as an equally surprised Professor Snape glared back at him. Harry's eyes worked their way over to where Dumbledore sat to find the headmaster smiling back at him.

"Harry, so nice to see you, my boy. Come, join us," Dumbledore finished as he gestured to a chair next to Snape.

Harry swallowed nervously and nodded silently. As he slowly walked to his chair, his eyes found Professor Snape again. The man continued to glare, his dark eyes following the Boy-Who-Lived until he was seated next to him.

Dumbledore continued to smile as Harry sat down. He could sense the tension in the air between his two younger wizards and realized just how right Ms. Granger had been. Not that she was often wrong. The young girl had visited him not two hours ago with tears in her eyes and explained everything she had witnessed and heard between Harry and Severus. Dumbledore had realized that his moment to intervene had arrived.

"Gum drop, Harry?" Dumbledore asked innocently as he held a bowl out to the young boy.

"Thank you, sir," Harry replied warily as he took a candy out of the bowl.

Dumbledore then offered the candy to Severus, who simply crossed his arms over his chest and quirked an eyebrow in distaste.

"Some tea then, Severus?" Dumbledore offered pleasantly.

"Thank you, no," Snape replied, the annoyance in his voice evident.

"Oh, I must insist," the headmaster continued as he poured a cup and pushed it toward Snape. "You are always much more pleasant after you've had some," he finished with a twinkle.

Snape's lips curled in exasperation. "I must admit my confusion, Albus. I came up here on the notion that you had something of a _private_ matter to discuss with me," Snape's eyes darted toward Harry as he spoke.

Dumbledore smiled. "But it is a private matter, one that includes _both_ of you."

Harry looked nervously from one professor to the other. He really had no idea what was going on, but was oddly comforted by the fact that it seemed Snape was left in the dark as well.

"Firstly," Dumbledore continued, "I'd like to happily announce the threat of Voldemort has ebbed, for now anyway, and therefore Harry may rejoin his fellow Gryffindors once again."

Harry sat up straighter at this. "You mean I don't have to stay with Professor Snape anymore?" he asked excitedly.

Dumbledore nodded. "Yes, Harry, that is precisely what I mean."

Snape quirked an eyebrow at the sigh of relief Harry blew out. He would never admit it, but the boy's unbridled joy at the news he could leave made something inside Snape's chest sting.

The flash of hurt in Snape's eyes certainly did not go unnoticed by Dumbledore. In fact, the older wizard was almost glad to have seen it. Not that he wanted Severus to hurt, but the almost nonexistent display of emotion reaffirmed what Dumbledore had perceived to be going on. Severus was pushing Harry away, that much was obvious. But it was clear that his heart wasn't fully committed, and Dumbledore had a good guess as to why.

"Onto the other reason I asked you both to my office," the headmaster continued conversationally. "How are the Occlumency lessons going?" he asked as his eyes darted between the younger wizards.

"Abysmal," Snape replied simply as Harry muttered "awful" under his breath.

"I see," Dumbledore replied slowly, "and why do you think that is?"

Harry opened his mouth to answer but Snape cut him off.

"We have known since last year that Mr. Potter is rather inept with the skill. This time proves to be no different," Snape finished with a smirk.

Harry glared at the dark-cloaked professor. "That's not true! I managed to block you that one time!" Harry was getting very tired of the insults and wanted to defend himself, however trivial his one success had been.

"Even the most incompetent get lucky once in a while, Potter," Snape came back coolly.

"It wasn't luck!" the Boy-Who-Lived came back angrily. "I was focusing as hard as I could!"

Snape locked eyes with Harry. "Then why do you manage to fail every other time we attempt it?"

Harry bit his lip as his former caretaker regarded him with so much contempt. _"Because I can't stop thinking about how much you hurt me!"_the boy thought to himself. He wanted to yell it out loud, but figured even if he did, his professor would just laugh in his face.

Dumbledore, however, read the message loud and clear. Clearing his throat he waited for his two younger wizards to tear their hateful looks off of each other.

"Perhaps we are going about this the wrong way," he began tentatively once he had the younger wizards' attention. "I think it would be wise if Harry had a break from Occlumency for a little while."

"Thank Merlin," Harry breathed.

Snape glared at Dumbledore, his arms still crossed defiantly over his chest. He was inwardly relieved, however. The less he had to see Harry, the easier it would be to move on as if they had never stood on common ground. However, the boy's safety was still of utmost importance to Severus, it being the very reason he pushed Harry away. "Not that I oppose in any way, Albus, as my living quarters will be much cleaner and less annoying, but it is a skill that the boy _must_ learn if he is to survive."

Harry was reeling from the always insulting way Snape managed to speak of him, but Dumbledore smiled at the underlying concern Snape had just shown for the boy.

"Severus, my dear boy, I was not finished," Dumbledore continued seriously. "Harry is to take a break from Occlumency lessons but in the mean time I think it would be a good idea to have the two of you practice Defense Against the Dark Arts together."

Harry gaped at the news. With the way Snape was acting toward him, he could only _imagine_ the hexes that would come out of his Professor's wand if allowed to practice Defense Against the Dark Arts with him.

Snape found himself with conflicting emotions once again. He didn't want to be forced to spend more time with Harry, as it proved increasingly harder to ignore the hurt in those emerald eyes. However, he knew that if anyone was skilled enough in the Dark Arts to truly help the boy, it was himself.

Dumbledore smiled to himself. He may not have gotten any verbal acceptance, but he also didn't hear any arguments. "I shall take your silence as approval then," he stated simply. He knew that the two wizards were feeling anger towards each other, and what better way to release that resentment than to be able to fire hexes at each other? In his infinite wisdom, Dumbledore knew that the younger men simply had to vent before any kind of civil conversation would occur between them.

Dumbledore stood then, and Harry and Severus stood with him. "I believe our meeting has come to an end then. You both may take your leave however, before you do, I'd like to ask that you shake hands," he added with a twinkle.

Both wizards regarded the headmaster with a look of confusion.

"It is apparent you two are feeling rather ill towards each other," Dumbledore began simply. "I think it only appropriate that you at least act civil and treat one another with due respect."

Harry resisted the want to roll his eyes and was taken aback when he saw Professor Snape's hand extended toward him. His surprised emerald eyes rose to meet the expectant look of his professor's. He clasped his professor's hand and was surprised yet again by the fact that the handshake was friendly. Not at all the bone-crushing shake Harry was expecting. When Harry went to pull away, he couldn't help but wonder why Snape continued to hold on. The dark eyes of his professor gave him a piercing look that would have made any first year wet themselves. Harry, however, felt himself oddly comforted by the look and couldn't help but wonder what his professor could possibly be thinking at that moment.

To be continued…

A/N: All hail Hermione, our unsung hero :-)


	15. Great divide

Chapter 15: As if the great divide could swallow me whole

"Much like your brain capacity, my patience is _limited_, Potter."

Harry was exhausted; too exhausted to even think of an insult he could return. He was pouring sweat as he fought to catch his breath. There was a terrible cramp in his side from constantly running and ducking behind various objects. He was currently squatting behind a large rock in a classroom transfigured to resemble the forest, feeling extremely cowardice but not having any other alternative at the moment.

"If you're going to continue this ridiculous game of hide and seek, I fail to see the point of wasting my time with these lessons," the professor's deep voice drawled.

The Boy-Who-Lived figured it would have been a miracle if he could catch his breath long enough to utter a hex in retaliation. _"This is useless!"_ he thought to himself angrily. Snape was good, _too_ good. Harry was constantly on the defensive and every spell he cast toward his professor was deflected with ease. Snape did make one mistake though; with his constant taunting he gave away his position. Mustering up his courage, Harry jumped out from behind the boulder and took aim at his professor's back.

"Impedimenta!" the Boy-Who-Lived shouted.

Harry couldn't believe his eyes. Snape didn't even turn around to deflect the hex. The dark-cloaked wizard simply flicked his wand and the spell came careening back toward Harry. The teenager quickly ducked behind his rock again as the spell narrowly missed him.

"Bloody hell!" Harry mumbled to himself as he tried to collect his thoughts.

"Had enough?" Snape asked snidely.

"No!" Harry shouted back defiantly. The truth was, however, he had had enough fifteen minutes ago. He felt as though he would pass out if this continued for much longer.

Suddenly, the rock Harry was leaning against began to tremble, as though there were some sort of earthquake. Confused, Harry backpedaled away from it but stayed low so that he was still out of Snape's line of sight. The rock began to shake more fiercely until finally, it exploded. Harry yelled as he was thrown back several feet. He landed hard on the ground and ducked his head as rock fragments began raining down on the surrounding area. A few pieces hit his arms, one hitting his cheek as well, leaving scratches deep enough to draw blood.

With the wind knocked out of him, Harry managed to stand and lean against a nearby tree. He was panting heavily, and could make out the blurry form of his professor walking toward him. Assembling the last of his energy, he pointed his wand feebly at Professor Snape.

"Ex-pelli-armus!" the teenager managed to choke out between breaths.

Snape easily deflected the spell, his face lined with amusement. "It's time to end this, Potter."

Harry made one last attempt to run for it, but his efforts were futile.

"Petrificus Totalus!"

The body-bind hex wrapped itself around Harry, and he fell to the floor with a thud. His wand careened across the room as he fell, and the Boy-Who-Lived could only stare at the ceiling as he fought to catch his breath. He was _mortified_. Not only had that been the first time Snape had 'lowered' himself by using a verbal spell during the entire battle, but Harry couldn't even free himself from the bind as he had lost his wand.

Professor Snape stalked toward the Boy-Who-Lived, looming over the younger man once he reached his side.

"You dropped you wand, Potter."

Harry swallowed around a lump in his throat as he gazed up at his very angry sounding professor.

"You _never_ drop your wand," Snape commanded, his eyes narrowing dangerously.

Harry's mind and body were spent. If Professor Snape weren't standing threateningly over him he would have had no problem closing his eyes and falling asleep right there on the floor.

"It was a mistake, sir. Will you please undo these binds now?" Harry knew he sounded pathetic, but found he was too tired to care.

"I think that would be a poor decision," Snape's silky voice responded dangerously. "How would you learn anything from this experience if I simply released you?"

Harry met the dark eyes of his professor warily as the older wizard bent down, resting himself on one knee at the boy's side. Harry could feel the raw magical energy of his professor due to such a close proximity after their dueling. It felt all encompassing, _powerful_, and Harry could not deny how impressed he was.

Snape smirked; the boy was trying to hide his fear behind that Gryffindor courage. Severus could see right past it. Quirking an eyebrow he regarded the young man once more.

"Let's make a deal."

"_A deal? Since when does Snape make deals?"_ the Boy-Who-Lived thought to himself as he regarded his professor with a questioning look. "Sir?"

"If you can block me from your thoughts, I will let you up and give you some of your dignity back… however scarce that amount may be."

Snape smirked again, and Harry scowled.

"I thought we weren't practicing Occlumency!" the teenager shouted. However, from his current position bound and lying on the floor, he figured it didn't come off as very threatening.

"Idiot boy!" the professor snapped suddenly. "Why do you think I was always one step ahead of you during battle? Does your frail mind still not comprehend how useful the skill is? You were an open book, I could sense everything you were going to do _before_ you did it!"

Harry was fuming. "Do you _have_ to insult me in every sentence?"

Snape leaned in closer, his face mere inches from Harry's. "Does it get your blood boiling, Potter? Does it make you want to hex me into yesterday?" he whispered perilously.

"Yes," Harry answered through clenched teeth.

"Then yes, you pathetic waste of magic!" the professor shouted as he pointed his wand at the teenager. Snape could sense just how angry he was making the young wizard, and it was exactly what he wanted. "Now _block_ me. Legilimens!"

The memory was not one Harry ever would have picked for that moment. Not that they usually were memories he would want Professor Snape to see. It started off with the two of them sitting in Snape's quarters, talking civilly to one another about the Death Eater meeting his professor had just returned from. Harry knew where this was heading and despite the happiness the memory brought him, he did not want Snape to think him even weaker by allowing his professor to witness it. With that thought, Harry gathered all of his strength to expel his professor from his mind. Using the advice Snape had once given him, he completely ignored the memory that was playing out like a movie in front of him.

/"I did not _have_ to take care of you, Harry. I _chose_-"/

As though falling from a great height, Harry came crashing down to reality. Panting heavily, he was filled with conflicting emotions. He was so excited at the moment; he had finally done it! For the first time he had completely shoved Snape out of his mind! However, the nature of the memory was quite embarrassing. When he finally met his professor's eyes, the smirk he expected was absent. The professor's face was blank as he quietly spoke "Finite Incantatem" and helped Harry to his feet.

Snape felt conflicted. The boy was still dwelling on that night, that much was obvious. His plan of making Harry hate him was not panning out the way he would have liked. And yet, the Boy-Who-Lived had finally been successful. But was it because of his pushing and insulting of the boy, or was it due to the happiness that memory had brought him? Snape already knew the answer to that question when he considered the fact that his berating had never received results with Harry before. Only when the boy had begun to trust him was there ever any progress.

"Well done, Potter. It seems today was not a total waste after all."

Harry brushed himself off and regarded his professor's rare praise warily. "Thank you, sir." He still felt embarrassed about the content of his memory, and wished he truly were an Occlumens so that he could read Snape's thoughts at that moment. The man appeared uncomfortable, and it was not a fitting look for his professor. So unfitting in fact, it was beginning to make Harry feel uncomfortable himself.

"Well, sir, if the lesson is over, I do have other work I need to catch up on," Harry trailed off as he turned to leave.

"Not so fast."

Harry stopped at his professor's command and turned back to face him. Snape had conjured up a stool and motioned for Harry to sit. Sighing, Harry took a seat.

"More lectures about how miniscule my brain is, Professor?"

Snape's lips resembled something akin to amusement as he grasped Harry's wrist and held up the boy's arm.

Harry quirked an eyebrow at his professor in confusion until he realized what Snape was doing. His professor began to gently run the end of his wand along the deep cuts on Harry's arm, sealing the wounds as he went. Harry had been so caught up in the emotion of everything that he forgot he had even been wounded. Now that he noticed the cuts on his other arm, and remembered the one on his face, he began to realize just how much they stung.

As Snape continued to heal each wound with a gentleness Harry had almost forgot the man possessed, the Boy-Who-Lived felt as though his head was going to explode. Snape was so confusing. Not five minutes ago he was berating Harry with insults and now he was acting the way he had before. When he had told Harry he cared about him…

Harry felt his heart ache at that thought, and as Snape began tending to his other arm he decided it was best to break the silence.

"How did you do that, professor? Make that rock explode, I mean?"

Snape didn't meet Harry's eyes as he continued to work. "It was a blasting curse. Surely you've heard of it?" he glanced up to see Harry shaking his head in disagreement. "When you use the incantation 'Confringo', it causes the target object to explode."

Harry felt a bit ill all of the sudden. "If I hadn't backed away, could the explosion have killed me?"

"Yes," Snape replied simply.

Harry paled at this, pulling his arm out of Snape's grasp as if burned.

Snape sighed as he met Harry's look of betrayal. "I contained the explosion. Trust me, Potter, you are in safe hands."

Harry could only nod as he let Snape continue to heal him. He couldn't help but become even more impressed with this new knowledge. Snape could _control_ the intensity of a spell. And he could do it with non-verbal magic _while_ reading Harry's mind to anticipate his every move. Harry began to doubt himself. How was he going to ever be able to perform magic even close to the level Snape was?

As if his professor was reading his mind, Snape began speaking softly.

"You've no idea the skills I can teach you, Harry, if you're willing to listen and learn."

They met each other's eyes then. Harry's wide and wondering; Snape's dark and powerful. And for some reason Harry couldn't explain, he was drawing comfort from his professor's expression again.

Snape continued seriously. "Magic you've never seen, you've never even heard of. Magic you wouldn't even think of doing in your worst nightmares."

Harry's eyes widened at this. He couldn't deny the thrill he felt at the thought of learning that type of magic, the variety that no _student_ should ever have the privilege of learning.

Snape smirked at the look of excitement on Harry's face. "How interesting. The Chosen One is dying to learn the art of dark magic."

Harry shrugged his shoulders nonchalantly. "Like you said, professor, we're not so different."

Snape paused his ministrations and gazed at Harry levelly.

"Or… did you not mean that either?" Harry asked quietly, doing his best to keep the hurt out of his voice.

Snape continued to give Harry a pointed look as he pulled the boy to his feet and vanished the stool with a wave of his wand. "I believe that will conclude today's lesson," Snape began as he turned. "We will meet in this room at the same time tomorrow."

Harry watched with frustration as his professor walked toward the door. Despite the fear Harry felt at the possibility of facing Snape's wrath yet again, he couldn't let the older wizard leave. Not after the care his professor had shown for him yet again. Snape had acted in the same considerate way he had before, and the Boy-Who-Lived could not help but wonder why.

"You called me Harry again, you know."

Snape halted but did not turn around.

"Just a minute ago," Harry continued. "When you were telling me what you're capable of teaching me."

"A mistake, I assure you," Snape replied over his shoulder.

"I don't believe you," Harry called back.

"I don't care what you believe."

Harry could feel his face getting hot. Snape still had not turned around and was now almost to the door. The Boy-Who-Lived raised his wand at his professor's back. If his words would not stop the older wizard, then the impediment curse certainly would.

Before Harry could utter the curse, Severus whipped around with his wand raised.

"Expelliarmus!"

Harry's wand flew out of his hand as Snape menacingly stalked closer.

"Attempting to curse me while my back was turned and _after_ a lesson, Potter?" Snape hissed as he loomed over the Boy-Who-Lived. "You must have a death wish."

Harry groped to find the right words. "I-I didn't curse you, sir," he tried anxiously.

Snape rolled his eyes. "Open book, remember?"

"If I'm so easy to read, then you must know _why_ I tried to stop you from leaving," Harry stated with wide eyes.

Snape swallowed as he looked into Harry Potter's hurt filled expression. He wanted to leave, _needed_ to leave, but something was keeping his feet firmly planted. He was quickly losing control of the situation, and Snape was not one to lose control.

"I just wanted to talk," Harry continued quietly.

Snape looked into the pleading emerald eyes of the young Gryffindor and found his resolve coming back. He was doing this _for_ Harry. He did not want to hurt him, only to protect him.

"Potter," Snape began softly. "I think that would be unwise."

Harry's eyes narrowed in anger. "Why? Why can't you tell me what's going on?"

"Calm down," Snape commanded. "Do not lose yourself. This is still a classroom and I am _still_ your professor."

Harry looked down. As usual, Snape's tone brooked no argument.

"I'm confused," Harry began so quietly, Snape had to strain to hear him. "Why are you treating me like the scum of the earth one moment and then comforting me the next?"

Snape watched Harry as he continued to look at the floor. "You expected me to let you leave the lesson with contusions covering your body? The headmaster would have loved that-"

"You're lying again," Harry cut in softly.

Snape's eyebrows shot up at the accusation. "Do not forget with whom you are speaking," Snape said dangerously.

"But you are!" Harry came back defiantly. "You know you care about me! That's why you healed my cuts just now and it's why you chose to look after me! I know you did, no matter what you say!" Harry knew he was acting childish, but at the moment he did not care. The only thing he wanted was to get through to Snape.

"That's enough," Snape's deep voice boomed. The professor was much more fearful on the inside, however. How could the boy have known? Was he really being that transparent? Perhaps Harry didn't know, and was only guessing. Whatever the reason was, Snape knew that Harry would no longer accept his 'mean git of a professor' act. Maybe the time had come for honesty.

Harry was glaring up at his professor, filled with hurt and anger as he waited for the older wizard to continue.

"Whatever may have transpired between us before… it cannot happen again."

Harry's eyes went wide. That certainly was not what he had expected Snape to say. "Why… what do you mean?" he pleaded.

Snape inhaled deeply, his dark eyes conveying the emotion he had trained his face to not express. "I cannot be what you want me to be. I am here for one reason and for one reason only, to _protect_ you. It is… hazardous for any sort of true camaraderie between us. It takes away from the larger, much more important picture."

Harry was shaking his head in disbelief. Confusion was washing over his mind as he tried to find the meaning in Snape's words.

"Professor, what are you saying?"

Snape sighed, shutting his eyes tightly. "I'm telling you to stop this, Harry." Snape regarded the young teenager seriously as he turned to leave. "I am your professor, nothing else."

Harry's mouth opened and closed several times but he couldn't manage to form any words. He could only watch with hurt and confusion as his professor exited the room, leaving the Boy-Who-Lived behind. Harry found himself alone once again, with nothing for company except for his thoughts.

To be continued…


	16. Oh how I'm breaking down

Chapter 16: Oh how I'm breaking down

Harry sat by the window, knees drawn to his chest as he looked out over the grounds of Hogwarts. The view from Gryffindor tower really was quite magnificent, even at night. As his sad eyes grazed the moonlit grounds, the Boy-Who-Lived replayed the previous events of the day over in his mind. He was so tired of being hurt and confused by Professor Snape.

All of the other students were in the Great Hall having dinner, but Harry found he needed the alone time more than he needed food that night.

Hedwig flew into the window just then, landing gracefully at Harry's side, having returned from her evening hunt. A small smile graced Harry's lips as he began to stroke the owl's white feathers. Hedwig was always welcome company as she never judged or insulted, only sat quietly and listened.

"He said he can't be what I want him to be," Harry said quietly.

Hedwig hooted softly, her head tilting to the side as she regarded her owner.

Harry sighed deeply as he stretched out his legs. "The problem is, to me, he already is…" he trailed off.

Hedwig nuzzled into Harry's hand affectionately. Suddenly, the door to the bedchambers opened, and the noise startled the snowy owl. She took flight and perched on the bedpost as a red-haired boy entered the room slowly.

"Blimey, Harry. There you are," Ron said as he walked toward his friend. "Why weren't you at dinner?"

Harry sighed as he looked out the window again. "I just wasn't hungry."

Ron's eyebrows narrowed in concern as he sat across from his dejected looking friend. "Is everything all right?"

"Not really," Harry answered as he met his friend's worried gaze. "But I don't really want to talk about it either."

"This is about Snape, isn't it?"

Harry shrugged passively.

Ron's voice took on an angry tone. "I know it is. It has to be. Harry, the man's a git. I don't know why you're even bothering feeling bad about something he did."

Harry's eyes narrowed. "I thought I said I didn't want to talk about it."

"Yeah, but you've never let his insults get to you this much before, why start now?"

Harry shook his head. "You wouldn't understand, Ron. Please, let's just drop this."

Ron huffed, hating the effect Snape had been having on his best friend.

The two sat in a tense silence for a few minutes, before an idea sparked into Ron's head.

"Hey, I know!" the red-haired boy began enthusiastically. "Let's go for a ride, that always makes you feel better."

Harry looked at his best friend with a small smile of gratitude. He could see how much his friend was trying to cheer him up, and it meant a lot. In fact, Harry considered, a ride would take his mind off of a certain Potions professor, and it had been a while since Harry had felt the exhilaration of the wind whipping at his face…

"Yeah, all right, let's do it," Harry answered with a grin.

Ron smiled widely in return. "We'll have to wait until everyone else is asleep though, otherwise someone could spot us out the window."

Harry rolled his eyes. "I'm aware of that, Ron. It's not as though we've never snuck out before."

"Right," Ron came back with a sheepish grin. "Sorry mate, it has been a while," he shrugged.

Fellow students began returning from dinner just then, and Harry and Ron moved to the common room. The two friends played several games of wizard's chess before everyone else decided to head to bed. Grabbing their brooms and sliding under the invisibility cloak, Harry and Ron made their way out of the common room as silently as possible to begin their evening of rule-breaking fun.

* * *

Professor Snape glided down hallway after hallway, an objectionable frown upon his face. He had much more important tasks that needed attending to, and here he was playing hall monitor for the evening. He did not appreciate the fact that having nothing to do but walk around was allowing his mind to wander. Potter. Bloody Harry Potter was what his thoughts always returned to. The boy's face entered his mind then, an expression of heartbreak plastered on the innocent features. Snape scowled to himself at the realization it was he who had put that look on the boy's face, and the fact that he actually cared enough to feel terrible about it.

A hushed whispering caught his attention suddenly, but as he strained to listen, the sound was gone. The professor quickened his pace and rounded the corner he assumed the voices came from. He stopped short as he realized the hall in front of him was completely empty. He was about to chalk it up to Peeves or another one of the irritating undead that inhabited the castle, until he felt the very tips of his fingers brush up against something. Whatever it was felt silky, and incredibly light.

Snape's eyes narrowed. "_Potter_," he thought to himself angrily. The boy's life was constantly in danger, and here he was trying to sneak off somewhere. Would the insolent brat never learn? Snape decided it would be much more interesting to find out where the boy was going then to stop him in his tracks. The professor continued walking past where he knew Harry was, a look of indifference on his face. He didn't walk far, however, before he heard the large door that led to the Hogwarts grounds creak open and then shut again.

Snape followed silently, his lungs taking in their first breath of the crisp night air. It was not long before he heard excited whispering coming from behind a set of trees. The dark-cloaked professor had no trouble stealthily sneaking up behind the trunk of a rather large oak. He settled himself against the tree as he listened in on the conversation.

"I thought we were done for!" Ron breathed excitedly. "Did you see the look on Snape's face? You know he suspected something."

Harry shrugged as he mounted his broom. "He must not have. If Snape suspected something he would have done something about it."

Severus felt an amused smile cross his lips as he remained unseen. "_How right you are, Mr. Potter_," he thought to himself.

Ron hopped onto his broom, a look of pride on his face. "So, you're saying we outsmarted him?" the red-headed Gryffindor asked with exhilaration.

Harry regarded Ron with a serious expression. "No one outsmarts Snape."

Severus felt his chest warm as he watched Harry kick off into the night. Harry unknowingly just gave him what was probably the best compliment he had ever received. And to top it off, he did it to stand up for him, against his best friend. Snape's chest grew increasingly tight as each one of those thoughts strayed into his mind. In order to get his mind onto something else, he resigned himself to leaning against the tree and watching Harry fly above the trees.

Snape couldn't help but smile at the look of pure elation on Potter's face as he weaved in and out of the trees. The teenager then pulled up and began doing loops in the sky, whooping as he went with Ron chasing closely behind him. Snape didn't think he'd ever seen Harry so content. The warmth in his chest began spreading as he took in a completely carefree, happy Harry Potter for the rare sight that it was.

Severus watched the two boys for another ten minutes or so. He found he couldn't take his eyes off of Harry. Partly because of the increasing joy it brought to himself to see the boy so elated, but there was a protective feeling that came with it. Harry was very skilled at flying, Snape knew that, but the boy was performing some rather harrowing stunts. Snape felt that he needed to be there in case Harry should hurt himself or, more importantly, to prevent Harry from hurting himself.

Harry was hovering about fifty feet above ground as he watched his friend, clapping as Ron performed some dizzying loops of his own.

Harry heard a voice in his head then. A malicious hissing that told him the end was near. The Boy-Who-Lived stiffened as a sharp, stabbing pain entered his head. Gasping in pain, he tried to keep his balance as he lifted one hand to press against the intruding agony in his head. He tried shouting for Ron, but his voice came out choked and broken. He opened his eyes to seek out his friend, but was met only with a blinding white heat that penetrated his vision. Harry cried out in agony, placing both hands to his head and pressing as hard as he could. His balance was thrown off, and he slipped off his broom. The fierce wind whipping at his face as he fell was nothing compared to the anguish he felt inside of his skull as he plummeted toward the ground.

Severus watched with horror as Harry began to fall. He knew what was happening, the pain that raked up and down his forearm told him everything. Wincing at his own pain, he looked to see that Weasley had just now noticed his friend's falling. But the red-headed teenager was too far away, he would never make it in time to catch him. Snape stalked forward out from the cover of the trees, his breath hitching as the sensation that someone was drawing a sharp knife into the skin of his arm continued. He pointed his wand at Harry; the boy was getting dangerously close to the ground. Concentrating as best he could through his own anguish, he muttered "Wingardium Leviosa". Harry slowed steadily, but did not fully stop. Focusing more fiercely then he ever had before, Snape managed through his own pain to run to Harry's side as the boy landed softly on the ground.

Harry twisted and writhed on the ground, his mouth open in a silent scream. His eyes were shut tightly and Snape watched helplessly as tears of pain began streaking out from under the boy's eyelids. Snape did the only thing he could think of to comfort the boy in their current situation. Kneeling on the ground, he gathered Harry into his arms, cradling the young teenager against his chest. Harry gripped the front of Snape's shirt as though it were his lifeline, the young boy's face still contorted in pain. Harry's eyes opened, his expression pleading as he gazed up at his mentor. Snape swallowed thickly at the look, ignoring the pain in his arm to help the boy he had grown to care for so much.

"It's all right, Harry," Snape spoke soothingly. "You're going to be okay, you can fight through this."

Harry could only nod in response, his professor's deep baritone washing over him like a warm blanket. He was distantly aware of Ron's presence at his side, but could do nothing to acknowledge his friend. He did his best to focus on the comfort his mentor was providing, in order to take his mind off of the agonizing pain. Snape felt warm against him, and the older wizard's strong grip around him made Harry feel safer than he ever had before. He couldn't stop the tremors that traveled up and down his body, but his professor just pulled him closer in an attempt to stop his shaking.

"Deep breaths, Harry, calm yourself," Snape commanded softly.

Harry did as he was told, taking one deep breath in, and then slowly letting it out.

"I've got you, Harry." Snape began quietly. "You're going to make it through this because I won't let you fail. You mean too much to everyone. You mean too much to me."

Harry felt the pain in his head ebb with each word that his professor spoke. He could do nothing but smile as his chest filled with warmth at the last words that came out of Snape's mouth. He looked up and met his professor's eyes. What he saw there he could only comprehend as one thing in his weary mind; love. It was then that Harry felt his eyes close of their own volition, and a deliciously pain free blackness overtook him.

* * *

Harry's eyes slowly blinked open as he woke. Through blurry vision, he managed to spot his glasses on the bedside table. After putting them on, a smile lined his face as he recognized immediately where he was. He was in the bedroom Snape had given him during his stay with the Potions master. Quickly scanning the room, he found that Snape was definitely not there, and Harry leaned back against his pillows with a sigh.

He had no idea what time it was, but he also didn't care. His mind immediately returned to the circumstances that brought him to be sleeping in Snape's quarters once again. He felt that wonderfully warm tingling sensation take over as he remembered everything his professor had said to him as he had helped him through that ordeal.

Harry frowned suddenly as a disturbing thought took over his happy ones. What if Snape had only said those things to get Harry through the pain? What if he hadn't really meant any of it? "No," Harry said quietly as he shook his head to rid himself of those thoughts. He saw the look in Snape's eyes, you can't fake a look like _that_.

Harry heard a rustling noise then; one that sounded like it came from the main living area. He decided the best way to find out exactly just what had happened was to ask Snape about it. He walked into the living room, clad only in a tee shirt and shorts.

"Mr. Potter."

Snape's voice came from his right, and Harry turned to find his professor smirking at him.

"Glad to see you've rejoined the living," Snape commented, his eyes showing his amusement at Harry's appearance. "Go take a seat by the fire and warm yourself, the tea is almost ready."

Harry nodded as he shivered slightly. "Thanks, sir," he replied as he headed towards the couch.

Once Harry had settled in front of the fire and pulled a blanket over himself, he felt his face redden. It had just occurred to Harry that Snape had not only caught him breaking several school rules, but that the older wizard had saved his life in the process.

Snape was at his side suddenly, handing him a cup of steaming tea. Harry mumbled thanks as he kept his eyes averted from his professor. Snape settled himself in the adjacent chair with his own cup, an amused smile gracing his lips at his student's sudden modesty.

"Something wrong, Harry?" he couldn't help but ask before taking a sip of his tea.

"No, sir," Harry answered quickly as his kept his head down. "Why would something be wrong?"

Snape snorted. "For one thing, I cannot imagine your cup of tea is _that_ interesting," he began with a smirk.

Harry lifted his head to look at his professor, a sheepish expression on his face.

"Secondly," Snape continued, "if your face got any redder I might mistake it for the back of one of the Weasley's heads."

It was Harry's turn to laugh, and he did as the air in the room suddenly felt lighter. Professor Snape had just made a joke, and he did it to make Harry feel better.

A thought then occurred to the Boy-Who-Lived. "Professor, speaking of Weasleys, is Ron, I mean, is he-"

"He's perfectly fine, Harry," Snape cut in. "Very worried about you, and rather angry with the two weeks of detention he earned, but other than that, he's fine."

Harry's eyes narrowed in confusion. "Two weeks of detention? But why-"

Harry was cut off by the pointed look his professor regarded him with.

"Oh, right," Harry mumbled, "that whole 'sneaking out in the middle of the night' thing."

"Yes, that would be the one," Snape replied mockingly. "And don't think you won't be serving those detentions right along with him."

"Yes, sir," Harry replied quietly.

"And twenty-five points each has been taken from Gryffindor," Snape couldn't help but add.

"Fifty points!" Harry came back incredulously.

Snape quirked his eyebrow at the Boy-Who-Lived, giving him a look that said, 'You had better be glad it wasn't more'.

Harry smirked. "You're really getting a kick out of this, aren't you, professor?"

Harry meant the statement as a joke to keep up the light atmosphere in the room, but the serious expression Snape viewed him with was anything but amused.

Snape cleared his throat as he set his tea down on the table. His hands clasped in his lap as he leaned forward and looked at Harry levelly. "The most powerful and deadly wizard in the world has one mission, and that is to find _you_ and kill _you_."

Harry swallowed nervously under the weight of his professor's glare.

"What were you thinking?" Snape asked dangerously.

Harry looked down, averting his gaze as his hands began fidgeting in his lap. "I-I don't know. I just, I had to get out for a while…"

"Had to get out?" Snape repeated with disbelief. "That's the most ludicrous thing I've ever heard. What if I hadn't followed you? What if I hadn't been there to catch you?"

Harry felt himself growing angry despite the obviousness of how much his professor cared. Just a minute ago they were talking as though they were friends, and now Snape was back to being his old insulting, condescending self. "Yes, it seems as though your assistance at the time was, for once, of use to me."

Snape stood up out of his chair abruptly, and Harry instantly knew he had made a mistake. The words his professor had previously spoken to him just popped into his head, and they were out of his mouth before he could even comprehend the consequences.

"Care to repeat that?" Snape hissed.

"No," Harry came back defiantly.

"Good," Snape replied as he continued to loom over the teenager. "Then shall I take it as a slip of the tongue that you did not mean to say?"

Harry looked up at his professor, confusion on his face. Snape was giving him an out? It was clear from the exhausted look on the older wizard's face that he did not want to argue anymore than Harry did.

Harry sighed deeply in defeat, his head falling into his hands. "I didn't mean it, how could I? You're always there for me, sir," Harry trailed off with another tinge of embarrassment. "But the way you've been acting toward me lately was so confusing, and I couldn't stop thinking about it. That's the only reason I went out riding tonight, just to give my mind a rest," he finished sadly.

Snape's face softened as he listened to Harry pour his heart out. He realized, with solid proof now, that his behavior towards Harry had done more harm than good. If he had just taken the boy under his wing in the beginning, when they first started to respect each other, the confusion wouldn't have led to Harry using a dangerous outlet for his feelings.

Snape sighed deeply, and Harry lifted his head to look at his professor. Harry's eyes were full of sadness and shame, shame at how careless he had been.

"I'm-I'm sorry, Professor," Harry's voice stammered as he tried to keep his sudden influx of emotions under control. "I-I never should have gone out there. You-"

"Harry," Snape's voice cut in, raising a hand as he shook his head. "You don't have to-"

"Apologize?" Harry asked incredulously. His wide emerald eyes glazing over with unshed tears. "I almost blew the whole thing. I could be dead right now and Voldemort would be free to take over, all because I made the stupid choice to go flying after hours!"

Snape continued to shake his head, feeling as though he were losing control of the situation with such a distraught Harry Potter in his presence. "The blame is not on you alone. As you said, if I hadn't been acting so confusing toward you, this may never have happened."

"Maybe," Harry replied quietly. A small part of him, however guilty he may have felt about it, was glad that it happened. He might never have heard Snape admit his true feelings if that whole terrifying situation had never occurred.

Snape frowned as he continued to stand in front of the boy. Harry looked miserable. His head was bowed down and white-knuckled hands were knotting in his black, unruly hair. Snape could see the boy's chest hitching with each breath. The infernal child was doing his best not to lose control of his emotions completely in front of the professor. Snape sighed as he realized Harry was probably afraid he'd get reprimanded if he cried in his presence, a thought that only a few weeks ago would have been true. "_Not anymore though_," Snape thought to himself with determination.

"Harry," Snape broke the silence, his voice soft and gentle as he stepped in front of the teenager. "Come here."

Wiping a stray tear away embarrassedly, Harry stood and before he knew what was happening, Snape's arms wrapped around his back and pulled him in close.

Snape felt two arms wrap around his torso, hands grasping at his robes. He held Harry to himself, feeling the boy's ragged breathing against his own chest as the boy continued to fight the urge to cry in front of the other man.

"Foolish Gryffindor," Snape murmured, "always wearing your heart on your sleeve but too stubborn to admit that it's there."

Harry's breath caught in his chest. There was no malice in his professor's voice as he spoke. Snape wasn't being mean or insulting, he was telling Harry it was okay to let it all out. All of the emotions he had been bottling up since the death of Sirius, only added to by Snape's confusing behavior, his professor was telling him that it was okay to let go.

And Harry did just that.

He began sobbing into Snape's shoulder, surprising himself at how much emotion he had truly kept inside for so long. Tears fell down Harry's cheeks as he leaned heavily into his professor, and Snape squeezed him tightly as he held him close. Severus knew that Harry needed this, truly needed this to be able to move on with his studies, his emotions, and his life.

Several minutes had passed before Harry had composed himself enough to be able to speak. To voice the question that had been on his mind since Snape had saved him from his fall.

"I thought you said you couldn't be what I wanted you to be?" he asked weakly, his face still pressed against the older wizard.

Snape sighed deeply, regret lining his features. "I thought I was doing the right thing. But Harry," he paused, waiting for the teenager to meet his eyes, "I was wrong. I never meant any of the horrid things I said to you. I'm, I'm sorry, Harry."

Harry nodded weakly, seeing the same meaningful look in his professor's eyes he had seen after he fell off his broom.

Snape sighed in relief as the young boy squeezed him harder, letting him know that his apology was accepted.

To be continued…


	17. Save my life

Chapter 17: Someone come and, someone come and _save my life_

It was the middle of the night, and it was raining. Light would peek through the cloud cover only occasionally, as though the moon itself did not want to witness what was occurring below. The group of Death Eaters huddled together, forming their typical semi-circle that surrounded the Dark Lord. The hooded figures' breath came and went in visible puffs of condensation due to the chill of the night air. All of the dark-cloaked people visibly shivered, but whether it was due to the temperature or the daunting form that was Lord Voldemort, one could not be sure.

Voldemort's face held its usual sneer of disapproval as he looked down upon his followers from his throne-like chair. His red, beady eyes could be seen easily, and seemed to glow when the light escaped the graveyard completely.

"Severus Snape," Voldemort's cold voice commanded above the sound of the rain.

Snape stepped forward from the group, his strides purposeful as he approached the Dark Lord. His face held an expression of indifference; there was no trace of the fear he undoubtedly felt on the inside.

Once the Potions master stood in front of Voldemort, he got down on one knee and bowed his head.

"My Lord?" his voice questioned steadily.

Voldemort's face held a quizzical, yet malicious, expression. "You dare approach me with no remorse for your previous absence?"

Snape looked up to meet the dangerous gaze of the Dark Lord. "Forgive me, My Lord, I was detained."

Voldemort hissed, his fists clenching on the arms of his chair in anger. "Enlighten me as to what was so much more important than answering my call."

A pause. "Saving Harry Potter's life."

Voldemort's eyes widened ever so slightly as the other Death Eaters began whispering in disbelief.

"Silence," Voldemort commanded before turning his malevolent gaze back onto Severus. "Explain yourself immediately."

Snape bowed his head once again in gratitude before speaking. "When your summon came, the boy was several stories in the air on his broom. The connection you share with him caused a great deal of pain when you called the rest of us. He slipped off and would have fallen to his death had I not rescued him." Snape paused for a moment, his expression blank as Voldemort glared down upon him. "Have you not always said Potter's death will be by your own hands and yours alone?"

Voldemort's slit-like nostrils flared in anger. "I have. Why did you not come immediately after you stopped the boy's fall?"

Snape seemed to be choosing his words very carefully so as not to anger the Dark Lord further. "Numerous other professors and students came running out due to the Potter brat's yelling. I could not leave without being noticed by a great many." Snape bowed his head, taking on the submissive pose once again. "It shames me that I could not answer your call, My Lord. But to leave then would have blown my cover, and my purpose, to serve you."

Voldemort stood with a sinful smile upon his scaly lips. He approached Snape's obedient form and lifted the wizard's head up to meet his gaze with one long, reptilian finger under his chin. It was a wonder the Potions master did not shudder at the touch.

"Oh Severus, my dear Severus," Voldemort began sweetly with a venomous smile. "I do enjoy your company so. Hopefully you are speaking the truth."

Snape's eyes widened ever so slightly as the Dark Lord entered his mind.

Several seconds ticked by as the other Death Eaters waited anxiously to see what their master would find.

A great yell of anger broke the silence as it tore from Voldemort's throat. He backhanded Snape across the face, his eyes blazing red with fury.

The force of the blow caused Snape to go down on all fours. He quickly gathered himself and resumed bowing in front of Voldemort, his face miraculously expressionless despite the situation.

"Severussss…" the Dark Lord hissed.

Snape's eyes slowly rose to meet those of Voldemort. The professor's face was plastered with strands of his own dark, wet hair as raindrops continued to fall upon his pale features.

"Do you know what it was I saw?" Voldemort questioned dangerously.

"You witnessed me saving the Potter brat, My Lord."

Voldemort's lips twitched into a sinister smirk. "No, no, no, Severus, I saw much more than that…"

Snape's gaze did not falter as he waited for the Dark Lord to continue.

"I can understand how you would be confused, Severus, for you did not see the scene from my angle. No doubt your eyes were trained on Harry Potter the whole time."

Snape's face was masked with confusion. "My Lord?"

"My eyes, however, were trained on _you_, Severus. And the way you were looking at the boy was unmistakable."

Snape began shaking his head. "No, My Lord, I assure you, any way in which I was acting was just that. An act, a performance to keep up appearances."

Voldemort's sneer turned even more malicious. "You cannot _fake_ a look like _that_." Voldemort turned to address the other Death Eaters, leaving a still kneeling Snape in front of an empty throne. "It seems as though our Severus has gotten too caught up in this… _act_ of his."

The other dark-cloaked members remained silent, wanting to know very much what it was their Lord was talking about.

"Severus Snape _loves_ Harry Potter."

The hooded group gasped collectively, their eyes wide in disbelief and anger as they began whispering among themselves.

Voldemort resumed looming over Snape, a snarl on his lips. "Tell me, Severus, when did you first begin to care for the boy? When did you realize you could take him under your wing?"

Snape swallowed nervously, despite himself. "My Lord, I do not care about Harry Potter. And I certainly don't _love_ him." Snape had spat the word "love" as though it were poison.

Voldemort once again grabbed Snape's chin, although much rougher then before, and forced their gazes to meet. "You are already in far too deep, Severus. What do you hope to gain by lying to me?"

Snape could only stare, wide-eyed, as a green flash erupted from Voldemort's wand.

Voldemort turned to address his other followers with a cold expression, as the form of Severus Snape slumped behind him. But as Voldemort's mouth began moving, no words could be heard coming out. Instead, the quickened thumping of a heartbeat took over. It was getting louder and faster, and no one in the group seemed to notice it. Then, a heavy breathing accompanied the racing heart. Shallow gasps and panting as though someone were trying to catch their breath.

Harry shot up to a sitting position in his bed, a loud gasp leaving his lips. He covered his mouth with his hands, looking around the room to see if he had woken anyone. Harry watched silently as Ron turned over in his bed, sleepily mumbling to himself. When the Boy-Who-Lived realized he hadn't been too loud, he scrambled to the end of his bed and opened his trunk. He grabbed his wand, muttered "Lumos," and began searching. It only took a few moments to find what he was looking for.

"I solemnly swear I am up to no good," he whispered.

The Marauders' Map came alive with a sketch of Hogwarts and all of its rooms, including the secret ones.

Harry's wide, emerald eyes scanned the map quickly, desperately looking for one name in particular. After several heart-stopping moments, he breathed a sigh of relief as he found what he was looking for.

The name "Severus Snape" was as clear as day, sitting still in the Headmaster's office.

Harry relaxed as he realized that not only was Snape not at a Death Eater's meeting; he was also very much alive.

Harry decided that he didn't care how late it was, or that he'd be punished if found wandering the halls, or if Dumbledore and Snape got angry with him, he simply _had_ to warn his professor. Just because his dream hadn't shown him what was currently taking place this time, that didn't mean it wasn't predicting the future.

Clad in only a tee shirt and boxers, Harry threw his Invisibility Cloak around himself and made for Dumbledore's office.

* * *

After giving the gargoyle statue the correct password, Harry made his way up the spiraling staircase and knocked on the headmaster's door.

"Enter," he heard the kind, yet slightly curious voice of Dumbledore reply.

Dumbledore and Snape watched as the door opened and then closed again, but no one came inside.

"Ah Harry," Dumbledore began with a smile. "Good to see you… sort of."

Professor Snape rolled his eyes, and Harry muttered "Thank Merlin" under his breath at the sight of the dark-robed wizard. The Boy-Who-Lived then removed his cloak, allowing his entire body to become visible.

"Hello, Professor Dumbledore. Professor Snape," he said, nodding to each wizard.

Snape could only smirk in response, an amused look in his eyes that would not have been present a short time ago. He visibly looked the boy up and down, an eyebrow quirking questioningly as he took in Harry's appearance. He was about to make some sarcastic remark about the boy's decision not to dress himself, when he met his eyes. Harry's expression told Snape a world of information about how the boy was feeling. There was worry and concern in his eyes, but also immense relief.

"Mr. Potter?" Snape questioned curiously.

"I had a nightmare," Harry answered quickly. He felt his body twitch then, and the Boy-Who-Lived had to restrain himself from running over to Snape and hugging him. The nightmare had been so real; for a moment he had truly believed Snape was dead. And to see him now, sitting comfortably in the headmaster's office, Harry could not help but want to touch him, just to make sure he was real. Harry shook his head, trying to clear his mind of his juvenile needs.

Harry's statement captured both Snape's and Dumbledore's attention. Both wizards subconsciously leaned forward, a clear sign they wanted to hear more.

"What about, Harry?" Dumbledore's gentle voice urged the young wizard.

"Don't worry," Harry began appeasingly, "it's not like last time. No one's hurt or in immediate danger right now… because it was about Professor Snape."

The dark-cloaked wizard's eyebrows rose ever higher, and the Potions master stood to pull out the chair next to where he sat, motioning for Harry to sit.

Harry couldn't help but smile at the gesture. It was not long ago that Snape had greeted Harry with a cold glare and probably would have scooted his own chair away from where Harry sat if it would not have appeared so childish.

After Harry sat, he turned to look Snape in the eyes. "Professor, you _cannot_ go to anymore Death Eater meetings."

Snape looked at Harry with a guarded expression. "And why not?"

Harry inhaled deeply, his expression serious as he spoke. "Because in my nightmare, Voldemort found out that you don't hate me. He saw that you actually care about me; he even said that you love me-"

Harry cut himself off with a nervous glance to Dumbledore, afraid he had let something slip that Snape was not comfortable having announced out loud.

The headmaster smiled kindly in response. "Don't worry, Harry. Surely you don't think that I have not noticed the change of heart that has occurred between the two of you?"

Harry smiled sheepishly. "Of course not, sir" he replied quietly. _"How could I be so stupid? Dumbledore knows everything…_" he inwardly chastised himself.

"Please continue, Harry," Dumbledore prodded gently.

Harry inhaled deeply again, avoiding Snape's eyes this time as the older wizard had yet to look away from him. "Okay, well, Voldemort called a meeting, and Professor Snape was called up in front of everyone. Voldemort was angry because you didn't come to the last meeting he had called. You explained yourself by saying that you couldn't come because you had to save me in order for Voldemort to have the pleasure of killing me himself…" Harry paused here, finding himself feeling very nervous all of the sudden. He slowly lifted his head to find Snape staring at him intently. His professor's gaze was hard, but there was an underlying note of concern in his dark eyes.

"That sounds like the kind of excuse Professor Snape would have come up with," Dumbledore commented, waiting patiently for Harry to continue.

Harry ran a shaky hand through his hair as he continued. "So of course, Voldemort didn't believe you, so he performed Occlumency to find out if you were telling the truth. When he came out of it, he was so _angry_. His yell… it was unlike anything I've ever heard, and he backhanded you across the face and you fell…" Harry could feel his heartbeat quicken, all of the horrors of the very real dream now coming back to him. The pure hatred across Voldemort's face as he confronted Snape was staggering.

Suddenly, Harry felt a hand settle on his shoulder. The Boy-Who-Lived hadn't even realized he'd been trembling until he felt the warm and comforting hand of his professor. He looked up again to find Snape looking at him intently.

"It's okay, Harry," his professor's deep voice drawled. "I'm here with _you_. I'm not in any danger. Finish your dream for us."

Harry nodded, drawing more strength from his professor's touch and encouraging words than he would have liked to admit. "Voldemort said that the way you looked at me was unmistakable, that there was concern and love in your eyes when you saved me. After he announced your true feelings to the rest of the Death Eaters… he wasted little time getting rid of you."

Snape nodded slowly. "He used the Killing Curse then?"

Harry swallowed around the lump that was forming in his throat. "I didn't actually hear him say the words, but there was a green flash and then you fell over."

Several moments of silence passed, and Snape clenched and unclenched his fists as he considered Harry's nightmare.

"Severus…" Dumbledore began slowly. "I think we should consider this very carefully-"

"It was just a dream, Albus," Snape cut in matter-of-factly.

Dumbledore sighed. "I think we both know that Harry does not just have 'dreams'; they are visions into Voldemort's mind."

Snape angrily looked up from his clenched fist to meet Dumbledore's eyes. "What would you have me do?"

"Don't go!" Harry cut in abruptly, shooting out of his seat as he shouted.

Snape's eyes made their way over to Harry's shaking form. "Sit down, Harry. Do not think for one moment you have gained the right to shout at me."

"But, but, Professor!" Harry gaped.

"_Sit_," Snape commanded with a piercing gaze.

Dejected, miserable, and angry, Harry resumed sitting.

"Severus, I'm afraid I agree with Harry," Dumbledore said gently.

"I'll alert The Daily Prophet," Snape snarled sarcastically.

Ignoring Snape's anger, Dumbledore continued. "You are no good to us dead."

"And what good am I alive, if I can't do my job?" Snape questioned harshly, ignoring the hurt in both sets of eyes that stared at him.

"You are more than just a spy," the headmaster replied seriously.

Snape's eyes shut tightly as he tried to calm himself down. "The only way I can right the wrongs I have committed is as a spy; you _know_ this, Albus," he finished through clenched teeth.

Dumbledore silently gestured towards Harry. "And what of the leaps you've made with Harry? Surely you realize how much you mean to him. And thereby, with this new trust and respect, how much you two can accomplish. I dare say that is much more valuable a weapon against Voldemort than any spying you've done."

Snape stood out of his chair, his jaw clenching as he worked to control his anger. "I cannot deal with this now; I need to think on my own."

Harry stirred at those words, a new feeling of fear erupting in his chest as Snape turned to leave. What if Voldemort called his meeting while Snape was on his own? Would his professor go? Harry realized as his body rose and grabbed Snape's arm that he wasn't about to take the chance of finding out.

"Don't you understand what it will do to me if you die?" Harry asked desperately.

Snape ripped his arm out of Harry's grasp. "Of course I do!" he spat. "Which is exactly why I wanted nothing to do with _this_ in the first place!"

Snape sighed deeply, immediately regretting his words as Harry's large eyes filled with hurt. The Boy-Who-Lived turned to walk away, but was stopped by a firm grip on his shoulder.

"Do not just walk away, Harry," Snape said quietly.

"Gee, wonder where I learned that from?" Harry replied bitterly over his shoulder as he made to start walking again.

Snape's face contorted with anger as he spun the young teenager around. He gripped both of Harry's shoulders and looked the surprised boy in the eyes, their faces only inches apart.

"You impertinent, meddling, thickheaded-" a thousand insults wound their way through Snape's mind, but he found that his heart just wasn't in them. His expression softened as he continued to look into the hurt and angry expression of the young Gryffindor.

At Snape's sudden pause, however, Harry's face took on a look of confusion. "Meddling, thickheaded…?" he offered, trying to help his professor along.

A smile touched the edge of Snape's lips despite his best efforts to not let his amusement show. "And cheeky," Snape continued lightheartedly.

A small smile found its way to Harry's face. "Don't forget foolhardy and imbecilic!"

Snape chuckled, and Harry found his eyes widening due to the simple fact that he had never heard his professor laugh before. Before he knew what he was doing, the young Gryffindor found himself wrapping his arms around Professor Snape's torso, closing the already small gap between their bodies.

Snape inhaled sharply at the sudden warm and friendly contact, as it was a far cry from the anger they had regarded each other with only a moment ago. Snape wrapped his arms around the boy's shoulders, holding him close and looking over Harry's head to give Dumbledore a look that said, "Damn you and your meddling."

Dumbledore could only smile widely with a twinkle in his eyes in response as he regarded his two young wizards.

Harry buried his face in Snape's shoulder, squeezing his professor as hard as he could. Silly as it may be, Harry had to reaffirm that his professor was all right, and that it was just a dream. He could feel Snape's heartbeat against his cheek, as well as the slight rise and fall of his chest as he breathed, and Harry finally felt comforted.

Snape looked down at the top of the messy-haired wizard's head with amusement. "Harry? Perhaps you could ease up a little? I'm finding it hard to breathe."

"That depends," Harry replied, his voice muffled by Snape's robes.

Snape frowned. "On what?"

Harry looked up to meet his professor's eyes, but did not let go of him. "You have to _promise_ me you won't go back."

Snape was taken aback by the intensity of Harry's gaze as well as the words that accompanied it. "Harry, I…" Snape's eyes narrowed in thought. He did not want to hurt the boy, but deep down he was still convinced that his main purpose was to be a spy in order to protect the young wizard in front of him. "I do not make promises I can't keep."

Harry's face fell at his professor's words, before an expression of anger took over. "Then I'm not letting go! I won't let you throw your life away!" Harry gripped his professor harder as he spoke.

Snape sighed deeply, his hand resting on the back of Harry's head. "What do you intend to do then, Harry?" he questioned softly, his weariness evident in his voice. "Hold onto me forever? Eventually you'll have to eat, you know," he added lightly.

Harry pushed away from Snape then, his anger evident. He intended on shouting at his professor some more, to spell out in the plainest English exactly how much Snape meant to him. He wanted to do everything he possibly could to stop his new mentor from going. But he never had the chance.

Dumbledore's eyes widened as his two younger wizards hissed in pain. Harry stumbled backwards, one hand grabbing onto the desk while the other clutched at his head. Snape's hand wrapped around his forearm tightly, trying to ease the sudden burn he felt there. The headmaster could only observe the two other wizards with concern, hoping that the hurt would not last long.

Once the throbbing began to ebb, Harry and Snape met each other's eyes steadily.

Professor Snape's face was impassive, save for the worry that swirled in the black depths of his eyes. The worry was not for himself, however, but for Harry. As Severus stood up a little straighter, he hoped the Boy-Who-Lived would not hate him for what he was about to do.

A look of understanding crossed Harry's features, before pain and anger took over once again.

"You're going, aren't you?"

Severus inwardly winced. Harry had asked the question so plainly; it almost wasn't a question at all. It was a statement. A fact that the boy knew that anytime he got close to someone, they would abandon him in one way or another.

"I must," Snape replied simply. Oh, but there was so much more he wanted to say.

Dumbledore sighed sadly, shaking his head.

Harry's eyes narrowed dangerously. "Well? What the bloody hell are you waiting for then?"

Snape looked down at the miserable boy steadily. He tried to convey with his eyes what he could not bring himself to say out loud. The love that he had for Harry was apparent in his onyx eyes, but the Boy-Who-Lived shook his head at the sight.

"Get out! Just go!" Harry commanded desperately.

Snape took a step backward, making to leave, but it wasn't fast enough for Harry.

"NOW!" the Boy-Who-Lived ordered.

Severus Snape looked over Harry Potter carefully. His gaze then met the sad blue eyes of the man he considered _his_ mentor. Snape knew he had to do what he thought was right. After all, that was what he always did.

Severus looked into the familiar green eyes one last time before nodding, and making his way out of the headmaster's office.

To be continued…

A/N: Beta-ed by Sindie


	18. This misery will suffice

WARNING: There is some torture and, consequently, some gore in this chapter. Now, I don't think that I go into _too_ much detail compared to other stories I've read, but the warning is there anyway.

Chapter 18: This misery will suffice

As soon as Professor Snape exited the headmaster's office, Harry felt an overwhelming sense of dread and guilt bear down upon him. Immediately regretting his outburst, his damned childish outburst, he swore to himself and took off after his professor. As he made his way out of the room, he could faintly hear Professor Dumbledore calling his name over the pounding of his heart beat in his ears.

When he reached the bottom of the spiral stairs, he was greeted with a long, empty hallway. Swearing again, he began sprinting down the corridor, looking down each adjacent hallway as he went. He had no idea if Snape had already Apparated or not, only that he had to keep looking. He remembered distantly that one could not Apparate to or from Hogwarts, but logic such as that was, at the moment, not of importance. He was convinced that sooner or later one of the hallways would hold the retreating form of his dark-cloaked professor, his robes billowing behind him as they always did. And Harry would call out to him, tackle the man to the ground if that's what it took to stop him.

The Boy-Who-Lived ran for what seemed an eternity. His chest ached so badly, he thought his lungs might explode. There was a stitch in his side that was screaming, and Harry found he could no longer ignore the pain. He slowed his sprint as he all but ran into a large column, his arms wrapping around it as he slumped with exhaustion. He fought to catch his breath, drawing what comfort he could from the cool stone his cheek rested against. Harry's eyes immediately began filling with tears as he imagined the chastising voice of his professor saying something along the lines of, "What's the matter, Potter? Riding around a broom not enough of a physical stimulus to keep your young stamina in check?" Harry swallowed around the lump that was forming in his throat as he realized he would give _anything_ to have his professor berate him with insults once again.

As Harry stood panting, a few stray tears falling off his cheeks to the floor, he felt a warm hand on his shoulder. The Boy-Who-Lived stiffened at the touch as his heart began to race. Wiping his tears away, his glassy eyes rose slowly, conveying the hope he felt all over in their emerald depths. When he found himself looking upon a long white beard, pointy hat, and finally the blue eyes of the headmaster, Harry felt his heart plummet. He knew what this meant. If it was Professor Dumbledore standing here with him, then Snape truly had left.

The hand that was connected to the sad blue eyes gently pulled on Harry, and the teenager gave little resistance before falling into the robes of the older wizard. He felt Dumbledore's arms wrap around him, and Harry could only hold onto the older wizard tightly, feeling more miserable than he could remember feeling in a long time. He would take the all-encompassing pain of Voldemort in his head and being cast with the Cruciatus curse at the same time if it meant he hadn't _told_ Snape to go to the Death Eater meeting.

Dumbledore looked sadly upon the trembling teenager in his arms. "Professor Snape knows you did not want him to leave, Harry."

Harry had little time to ponder how easily Dumbledore seemed to read his thoughts before he found himself stepping away from the older wizard and barking a response. "Really? I find that confusing seeing as how I screamed at him and all but shoved him out the door!"

Dumbledore sighed wearily. "Harry, you _know_ you didn't mean it, and Professor Snape knows it as well."

Harry found himself shaking his head angrily, his fists clenching at his side. "Why didn't I stop him? Why didn't _you_ try to stop him?" He didn't mean to sound so accusing, but found he couldn't help himself. Surely Dumbledore could have done _something_ to stop Professor Snape.

"Severus is a grown man and quite capable of making his own choices. As much as I did not want him to go, it was out of my hands." Dumbledore truly felt helpless. Helpless to save one wizard he cared for so dearly, and helpless to comfort the miserable looking boy in front of him.

"There has to be _something_ we can do," Harry said suddenly, his face filled with determination.

Dumbledore stepped towards Harry, a knowing look in his eyes as he placed a hand on the boy's shoulder. "Ah, but you have already done something, my dear boy."

Harry's eyes rose to meet Dumbledore's, the young wizard's confusion evident in his expression.

Dumbledore gave Harry a small smile. "By telling Professor Snape your dream, you have given him vital information. He knows the way in which Voldemort will discover his feelings. As good an Occlumens as Severus is, he should be able to repress the images that lead Voldemort to his conclusion."

Harry felt an inkling of hope at these words, but looked at Dumbledore with skepticism. "You really believe that, sir?"

Dumbledore stiffened at the question. He did not want to tell Harry that it was a long shot. He also did not want to tell the boy what Lord Voldemort would undoubtedly do to Severus if he did _not_ kill him in order to teach him a lesson for missing a meeting. The suffering Severus would endure would likely be worse than a quick and clean death from the Killing curse. Despite the horrible thoughts and images that filled his mind, he managed a small, comforting smile for Harry's sake. "It is a possibility, m'boy."

* * *

Voldemort came out of Snape's mind, sneering as he looked down upon the bowing form of the Potions master.

Severus kept his gaze, as well as his breathing, steady. He would not give anything away, despite the fear that was engulfing him. So far, the meeting had happened exactly as Harry had described it. Severus could not help but fear the outcome may be the same as well. He had done his best to Occlude any memories that would give his true feelings away. He could only hope he had done a sufficient job.

"Severusss…"

Snape inwardly winced at the hissing noise his name had transformed to.

"It seems as though you are speaking the truth," Voldemort began, his voice thoughtful. "However, I can't help but wonder why you felt it necessary to coddle the brat as he writhed in pain." Voldemort smiled evilly at the thought, and looked to the crowd of his followers. "What would you have done, Bellatrix?"

Snape watched as Bellatrix stepped forward, her deranged smile and crazy hair doing nothing to convince Snape of her sanity. "I would have taken great pleasure in watching the little brat squirm. And I would have laughed in his face if he reached out for help!"

"I think that's what we _all_ would have done," Voldemort's red eyes scanned the group as everyone nodded, murmuring their agreement. His reptilian face then looked down at Snape, wonderingly. "Except for you, Severus."

Snape kept his composure, knowing Voldemort's thoughts were sinister, even when his voice remained so calm. "My Lord, with the Potter brat's yelling, I knew a crowd of people would be imminent. It would not have been prudent if other students and fellow professors ran out to find me pointing and laughing at the boy when he was in such a state." He finished his statement with a pointed look in Bellatrix's direction. "_Demented wench,_" he thought to himself.

Voldemort's face remained expressionless as he placed a scaly hand on his chin thoughtfully.

Severus remained kneeling, his head bowed as he waited for the inevitable. Voldemort would lose his temper; it was only a matter of time. It didn't matter if the excuse for missing a meeting was valid; it was still an absence, and in Voldemort's disturbed mind it was an act of disobedience.

As the weather turned from a light sprinkling to a downpour, Snape had just enough time to realize that Harry hadn't mentioned any rain before Voldemort broke the silence.

"There is something else, Severus, isn't there?"

Snape raised his head to address the Dark Lord. There was a question in the professor's black eyes, but his face remained impassive.

Voldemort grinned evilly, the way a child would if they held onto a precious secret, but much more sinister than any child could ever appear.

"I am very much intrigued by Harry Potter's actions. The way he clung to you… the way he looked to you…"

Severus was not expecting this. He felt his chest tighten with nervousness as he realized his error. He had been so focused on not revealing his true feelings that he had left Harry's wide open to be examined. Snape's mind began to spin with possibilities of where the Dark Lord could be taking this, how he could use the information.

"Have you noticed this, Severus? Or has your hatred of the boy blinded you?"

Snape thought carefully of how to answer, and when he spoke, his voice gave no indication of the nervousness he felt on the inside. "Nothing blinds me, My Lord. I have noticed the boy's… attachment to me, but have chosen to ignore it. I didn't think it wise for Potter to believe the delusion that I actually returned his respect."

Voldemort's lips twitched in amusement and the Death Eaters chuckled softly, appreciating the insult at Harry Potter's expense.

"Indeed," the Dark Lord commented as he took a step closer to Snape.

The corners of Voldemort's thin lips turned upward ever so slightly in a way that made Snape want to Apparate far, far away. Snape was no fool. If Voldemort was smiling, even just a little, he had dangerous thoughts on his mind.

"Our cold, brooding, offensive Potions professor could never warm up to Harry Potter… could he?" Voldemort questioned wonderingly.

The crowd murmured with confusion at the vagueness of the question, and Snape could only look back at the Dark Lord with uncertainty.

"My Lord?"

"I'm beginning to see a new way to approach our problem," Voldemort spoke loudly, addressing the whole crowd as well as the wizard that remained bowing before him. "For some reason, most likely because our Severus keeps saving him, the Potter brat is warming up to his Potions professor. Severus views this as a nuisance. I view it as an opportunity."

The red eyes of Voldemort's reptilian face flashed with excitement, and Snape could only hold his breath at what the "opportunity" might be.

"Severus Tobias Snape."

Snape inwardly cringed as the Dark Lord only used your full name when he was assigning a new mission.

"You will go back to Hogwarts and you will take it upon yourself to return Harry Potter's respect. You will earn his trust, a most valuable weapon, wouldn't you say?"

Snape nodded slowly, sickened on the inside at the way Voldemort's face was lighting up as he spoke.

"You will gradually become more patient with him," Voldemort continued. "You will even take it upon yourself to tutor him in Potions, as you have said numerous times how hopeless he is in your class. But you must be realistic about it. No one would believe that you, Severus Snape, would suddenly _like_ Harry Potter overnight."

The Death Eaters laughed at the ridiculous notion, and Severus smirked as he considered it _was_ almost overnight he realized the boy wasn't a glory-seeking brat.

"Once enough time has passed, and you have truly gained the boy's trust, only then will you lead him to me." Voldemort paused as a demented smile grew across his face. "And then, the _real_ fun will begin."

"Yes, My Lord," Snape said as he bowed his head, complying to his mission. The Potions master shuddered on the inside at the mere thought of leading the boy he had grown to care for blindly into the hands of Lord Voldemort. Snape kept his thoughts closed to any outside intrusion as he thought, "_Over my dead body_."

Severus Snape closed his eyes tightly as he realized it may come to just that.

"Do not look so pained, Severus," Voldemort commented with a sinister smile. "I know that you loathe the boy, but it will not be hard for you to work your way into his heart. I've heard how _righteous_ and _loving_ the famous Harry Potter is. In fact," the Dark Lord continued with even more enthusiasm, "we are going to give you some ammunition right off the bat."

Severus met Voldemort's gaze with a steeled look. He had a good idea of what the Dark Lord was talking about, but he hoped he was wrong just this once.

"That's right,my dear Severus, you didn't think you'd just walk away from this meeting without being made an example of?"

Snape swallowed as he shook his head. "No, My Lord, I did not."

"Of course you didn't," Voldemort purred as he placed a hand on Snape's shoulder.

The Potions professor had to exert all of his willpower to keep his body from shuddering as Voldemort leaned in closely. The Dark Lord began whispering in Snape's ear, his voice hissing as his cold breath crept across the side of Snape's face.

"I'm really killing two birds with one stone, Severus. You missed our last meeting, and for that you must undoubtedly be punished. On top of that, just imagine how our loving and caring Harry Potter will react when he sees you've returned from mean old Lord Voldemort barely able to walk."

Snape remained stoic, despite the fear he felt at Voldemort's implications. He could feel the other Death Eaters' eyes on him, eager to please their lord at his command. Snape remained kneeling as Voldemort stepped away.

"You will not attempt to fight back, Severus. You will want to, very badly, but if you wish to live, you _will_ resist the temptation."

As his fellow Death Eaters began crowding around him, he could barely make out what Lord Voldemort was saying over the blackness that he was allowing to take over his mind. If he was going to survive this, he was going to have to do his best to hide away inside his head.

It was not long before he was completely surrounded by dark-robed figures. He felt the first hex hit him - a deep cut slicing through his bicep. He felt the next curse, a stinging sensation on his stomach. After about twenty or so inflictions, he started losing track of the curses and hexes as they were coming at him so fast. A sting here, a burn there, cuts in his flesh every which way. He suddenly felt a very prominent slice on the sensitive flesh of his inner thigh. That particular cut was accompanied by the disturbing laugh of Bellatrix Lestrange. That figured, Snape thought to himself.

Snape was not aware of how long the barrage of wounds continued, for he was doing his best to remain numb. It wasn't entirely effective, however; it was only enough to keep him from howling out in pain. He didn't want to give the group the satisfaction of hearing his agony, on top of causing it and watching it. The numbness would wear off, however, and Snape was not looking forward to that moment.

Severus was lost in his thoughts, focusing on the face of one young boy as his senses continued to be assaulted by pain and the maniacal laughter at his expense. He was doing this for _Harry_. He would live through this and protect the boy.

The pain was soon becoming overwhelming, and Severus felt as though he might pass out. That wouldn't do, though. If he passed out, Voldemort would undoubtedly kill him. His eyes were overcome with weariness, and his vision was going black. Just as he thought he could no longer hold onto consciousness, an ethereal looking woman was walking toward him. Snape figured he must have been hallucinating. He blinked and shook his head as he saw the beautiful form of Lily Evans kneel before him. She smiled sadly at him, her hand cupping his chin as he continued to attempt to clear his head. This couldn't be happening; she couldn't possibly be here. As if reading his mind, Lily nodded, her long red hair swaying with the movement.

"Sev, my friend, you must do this. Harry needs you; he's counting on you. He's waiting for you."

Snape could feel his eyes welling up, a very strange sensation for a man who could not remember the last time he cried.

"Lily… I'm so sorry." Snape lowered his head as he realized he couldn't even pinpoint what he was apologizing for; there were so many things…

Lily tilted Severus' chin up so that he met her eyes again. Beautiful, sparkling emerald green eyes met ones that were dark, remorseful, and pained.

"Do not apologize for the past; focus on the future. My Harry is still alive because of _you_. If he is to do what is necessary, he will need you by his side."

Snape nodded his head as his eyes filled with determination. "He will accomplish his task and live on to be happy and pain free. I promise you that, Lily."

Lily Evans smiled; her face the most beautiful thing Snape had ever laid his eyes on. As her form began fading, Snape could hear her voice echoing in his head.

"You are a true friend, Severus Snape, no matter what you may think."

Snape watched her until she faded completely, wondering if he could have imagined her entirely. His moment of peace was broken as he felt the bone in his lower right arm crack. The Potions professor bit his tongue to keep from crying out, wishing he could retreat to a few moments ago when he was focused only on his best friend's kind words and encouragement.

Snape concentrated on emptying his thoughts again, so that he could continue the numbness for a while longer. Though he felt as though every inch of his body was injured in some way, he managed to continue kneeling before his aggressors and to do so with the knowledge that he would not fail.

For Harry.

* * *

Two hours had gone by, and Harry continued to stare into the fireplace in Snape's quarters. He knew that when his professor returned, and he _would_ return, it would be to this spot.

Dumbledore sat next to the boy, his expression remorseful as he took in the sight of Harry Potter. The boy had been sitting in the same spot; his back and shoulders tense with apprehension since they had walked from the hallway to the dungeons. Dumbledore hated seeing the boy in such a state, and he placed a careful hand on Harry's back before speaking.

"Harry, perhaps you should try and get some rest…"

The glare that Dumbledore received was comparable to the very wizard whom they awaited, and the headmaster raised his hands in a placating manner.

"It pains me to see you this way, Harry; I'm only looking out for you, m'boy."

Harry blew out a breath as his expression relaxed. "I know, I'm sorry, Professor. But I'm not moving from this spot until Professor Snape comes back." The Boy-Who-Lived turned his gaze back to the fireplace as he spoke.

"Harry…" Dumbledore began carefully.

"He _is_ coming back, Professor."

"Yes, my boy, I believe that too. However…" Dumbledore trailed off, not exactly sure how to voice his fear to the young teenager at his side.

"However what, sir?"

"Well, Harry, when Professor Snape returns, he will not be well. The degree to which he is harmed I cannot say, but I don't know if he'll necessarily want you to witness it."

Dumbledore was choosing his words very carefully, and it was obvious to Harry. His professor was not going to walk back into this castle the same way he left it.

Harry swallowed nervously. "I'm staying. If he's injured, I'm going to help him."

Dumbledore nodded with a sad smile. "I know you will, Harry."

Another hour had passed, and to say that Harry was worried would be the understatement of the century. Was his professor really being tortured, and if so, for the full three hours? Harry couldn't help but wonder if the man could even walk, let alone Apparate or travel by Floo. Harry was beginning to seriously consider Apparating to the gravesite where the meetings were held to bring his professor back when there was a green flash in the fireplace.

Harry jumped to his feet and almost fell back into his seat at the sight that greeted him. His jaw dropped open in horror, and he felt Dumbledore place a hand on his shoulder to steady him. Both wizards were at Snape's side in an instant, each taking one of his bloodied arms and draping it over their shoulders. They helped him to the couch, and sat him down gently. Harry released his hold on his professor and stood back in shock.

"We'll need Madam Pomfrey," Dumbledore said quietly.

Harry could only nod dumbly as the headmaster went to call for the mediwitch. He stood in front of his professor, wanting to wrap his arms around him in relief, but utterly afraid to touch him. He had never seen a person in such a state, and never wanted to again. Snape's clothes were torn, mostly on his upper body, and Harry would have seen a lot of exposed flesh had it not been covered with dark red stains. His legs appeared to be left alone for the most part, save for a long tear and deep wound on his inner thigh. There were cuts on his face, each one leaking blood. His professor's long dark hair seemed to be even darker, as it was matted and glistened where he had received injuries.

Harry carefully leaned in closer and could hear Snape's breathing. It was shallow and was accompanied by an awful gurgling sound. Harry swallowed nervously as he began to imagine what sort of internal injuries his professor had.

"Professor?" the teenager barely whispered.

Snape's eyes fluttered in response. That movement and his breathing was the only indication to Harry that the wizard was alive.

"Professor Snape?" Harry tried again, not surprised at how much fear was in his voice.

Snape was slipping in and out of consciousness. He wasn't sure exactly where he was, but he was aware that he was no longer being tortured. At least, he was assuming he wasn't. The truth was, he was in so much pain, he wasn't sure if he'd notice additional injuries.

He heard someone calling his name then. They weren't calling him "Severus", however, but "Professor Snape". This relieved him as he realized whom he was with. Harry was beside him, which meant he had made it back. He had survived Voldemort.

"Harry," he barely managed to choke out. He attempted to open his eyes, but it took far too much effort.

The Boy-Who-Lived breathed a sigh of relief as he heard his name on his professor's lips.

"Severus!"

Harry whipped around as a horror-stricken Madam Pomfrey came through the fireplace. Her eyes were wide as she took in the terrible sight. However, ever the professional, she shook herself out of it and walked toward the Potions professor. She didn't waste her time asking any questions, and began tending to the wizard who was in dire need of care. With a flick of her wand, she transfigured the couch into a hospital bed and began wheeling it into Snape's bedroom.

Harry was on her heels in a flash, intending on being present for every part of healing his professor. He felt a hand on his shoulder, stopping him, and he whipped around to find Dumbledore shaking his head at him.

"But, but, Professor!" he pleaded.

"I'm sorry, Harry. I know you want to be there for him, but Madam Pomfrey needs her space to work. That and you must respect Professor Snape's privacy, as she will need to check him over entirely."

Harry wanted to continue to protest, but knew that the headmaster was right. He would only be in the way, and if staying out were the best way to help his professor, he would do it.

Harry lowered his head in defeat as Dumbledore laid a comforting hand on his shoulder. The Boy-Who-Lived looked toward the spot where the couch had previously been and had to stifle a gasp at the amount of blood that had pooled on the floor. His eyes then followed a crimson trail on the floor that led from the where the couch had been to the fireplace. He then realized he could _smell_ the blood; it seemed to be everywhere. He slowly raised his trembling hands and discovered that they too were covered in his professor's blood. Everything was stained red, and Harry was beginning to feel sick.

Dumbledore took note of the disastrous way the room looked. With a flick of his wand, the blood disappeared from the floor. He then waved his wand over Harry and himself, effectively making the blood vanish from their bodies as well. He then pulled the trembling boy into an embrace, holding him tightly.

Harry grabbed onto the older wizard, feeling tears pooling in his eyes. "He is going to be all right, isn't he, Professor?"

Dumbledore nodded. "Severus is strong, Harry. _Very_ strong."

Harry nodded as well, sniffling as he tried to keep himself from losing control of his emotions all over Dumbledore's robes. Professor Snape was probably the strongest person Harry had ever known. If anyone could get through such an ordeal, it was his snarky, short-tempered professor.

A cry of pain from the next room broke the silence, and Harry's eyes widened in horror at the pure agony of the sound.

With a wave of his hand, Dumbledore cast a silencing spell on Snape's bedroom. There was no need for Harry to hear what was going on in there, not that the boy was ignorant to it by any means. Dumbledore silently cursed himself, wishing he had cast the spell the moment Poppy had wheeled Severus in there.

Dumbledore shook his head sadly then. He wished above all else that Severus would realize he had more than made up for his faults, and would stop causing himself so much pain.

* * *

Harry slowly opened the door to Snape's bedroom. Madam Pomfrey had finished tending to him a while ago, and left with instructions to let Snape rest. She said that she would be back in an hour to check on him, and that if Harry were still in his room and keeping Severus awake when she got back, there would be hell to pay.

Harry swallowed around the lump in his throat as he entered the room. It was well lit, like a hospital, and Harry figured Madam Pomfrey had made it that way in order to check Snape for any and all injuries.

As Harry walked toward Snape's bed, he felt his heart plummet. The man looked _terrible_, not that Harry expected him to look any other way after what he had witnessed earlier. Snape lay on his back, his upper body slightly propped up by an excessive amount of pillows. His chest and torso were exposed, no longer covered by thick black clothes and dark robes, but by bandages that wrapped all the way around parts of his upper body. His right arm was covered with a cast and held by a sling that went around his neck. Harry felt somewhat surprised to see it, as he hadn't even thought of his professor having broken bones. All of his cuts and gashes had been cleaned, with only the most serious injuries having stitches or bandages. A blanket was covering Snape's lower body, and Harry didn't even want to imagine what more injuries laid underneath it.

Despite all of the horrors that Snape's body was inflicted with, he at least looked to be peaceful. Madam Pomfrey had done an exceptional job at tending to his wounds. His hair was no longer matted and blood stained; it looked clean and tangle free as it framed his pale features. All of his skin was visible and blood free, save for the cuts and bandages, and Harry found himself to be a little disturbed at the sight of it. He had never seen his professor without his heavy black clothes on, and here he was, lying half exposed in front of him.

He had _never_ seen his professor look so vulnerable. He hoped he would never have to again.

A deep rumbling came from Snape's throat then, and Harry pulled a chair up to sit next to the injured wizard.

Snape's eyes were still closed as he began to speak, his voice very weak. "I'm not nude, if that's what has you looking so terrified." One corner of his mouth slowly quirked into a smile as he carefully squinted one eye open to see a gaping Harry Potter staring back at him.

"You're joking?" Harry asked incredulously. "You're lying on this bed half _dead_ and you're making jokes? You never make jokes!"

Snape responded with a deep growl from down in his throat, and Harry wondered if his professor kept doing it because of the gurgling his breathing was causing earlier.

The Boy-Who-Lived watched as his professor leaned his head back onto the pillows, a grunt of exertion leaving his lips at the simple movement. Harry felt awful as he watched his mentor. Looking at his professor in such a state, he knew that it was because of him. Snape was going through all of that pain for Harry's sake, and he wished more than anything it didn't have to be that way.

Harry found he couldn't stop himself as the words he was thinking in his head left his mouth. "Are you okay, Professor?"

Snape turned his head slowly as he opened his eyes and gave Harry a look that asked, "What do you think?"

Harry couldn't help but smile sadly in response. "Good to see you've still got your wits about you, sir," he chided gently.

Snape smirked. "Indeed," he replied quietly. He could feel his eyes closing again, as it took most of his strength to keep them open. He was annoyed at his situation, and at his body for disobeying what he wanted it to do. He wanted to be able to comfort Harry, to make him stop looking so guilty. He wanted to tell him that none of this was his doing, and that he was going to take care of him. He wanted the muscles in his mouth to cooperate so that he could form the words he wanted to say so badly, but instead he felt his mind slowly slip into unconsciousness as everything went black.

Harry watched with sadness as his professor passed out. The man was so weakened and exhausted he could barely keep his eyes open for more than a few minutes. The Boy-Who-Lived began to feel angry. Angry at the fact that the people around him were continuing to be harmed and even killed because of him. Who would be next? Professor Dumbledore? Ron and Hermione? Harry shuddered to think of any more of his friends being hurt. No one deserved the treatment that the wizard who lay before him received, _especially_ the brave wizard who lay before him.

Harry's eyes narrowed as he took in each one of Snape's visible injuries, wondering how much pain they had caused when inflicted, and how much pain they were _still_ causing him. The young wizard reached out toward his professor and grasped the other man's hand, the only part of him that did not appear injured. He squeezed Snape's hand gently, wanting to let his mentor know that even as he was asleep, he was not alone.

Snape felt himself waking, having no idea how long he had been out. It wasn't his own body waking him up, however, but the touch and voice of someone else. As he slowly came to, he could feel another's hand over his own, a gentle pressure that was warm and comforting. He thought he could faintly make out someone speaking.

"I'm … -orry. Ple… -orgive me."

"_Sorry? Forgive me_?" Snape's thoughts questioned as he tried to figure out what this person meant. Who would be asking _him_ for forgiveness?

He forced his eyes to open, and after what seemed like several minutes, they obeyed. Glassy emerald eyes that were covered with a pair of glasses met his gaze. Snape frowned, his eyebrows knitting in confusion as he took in the sight. Harry's cheeks had tears trailing down them, and the young wizard looked miserable.

"Harry…" Snape's voice came out gently.

Harry lifted his head, wiping away his tears before his eyes met Snape's. He felt the older man squeeze his hand lightly.

"None of th-" Snape cut himself off as he tried to clear his throat. "None of this is your fault."

Harry shook his head in disagreement. "Everyone keeps on getting hurt because of me, Professor."

Snape mustered all the strength he could to raise his unbroken arm and cup Harry's cheek with his hand. "Not because of you, never because of you. All of this is Voldemort's doing. It is very important that you remember that."

Harry nodded his head slowly, closing his eyes as he leaned into his professor's touch. The simple gesture spoke volumes, as he was perfectly aware of how much effort it had to have taken Snape to do it. He wanted to believe what Snape had said, and in fact, he was forcing himself to. Snape wouldn't lie to him about something like that.

"I was so worried, Professor. I thought… I thought I'd never see you again. And I told you to go-" Harry broke off, as he no longer trusted his voice. He was breaking down, he knew he was, and he didn't want to do it when Snape was already in such a fragile state. He closed his eyes tightly and felt hot tears spill out from under his eyelids.

Snape took in the sight of the young boy with sadness in his own eyes. "I knew you didn't mean what you said, Harry. You were angry, and I can't blame you for feeling that way."

Snape paused, and Harry opened his eyes to look at his professor.

"I'm sorry, Harry. I didn't plan on leaving you. It was always my intention to return."

Harry nodded his head as his eyes filled with understanding. The Boy-Who-Lived raised his hand to take hold of his mentor's, guiding it away from his face and back to the bed.

Snape smiled at Harry and gathered the rest of his strength to squeeze the young wizard's hand in appreciation. As he fell back into the overwhelming need for sleep, he kept his hand tight around Harry's. A gesture that told the young boy that they had each other's trust and friendship, and that Severus Snape was always going to be there for Harry Potter.

To be concluded…

A/N: Beta-ed by Sindie


	19. Epilogue

Epilogue

It had been close to one week since Snape had returned from the Death Eater meeting, and his strength was slowly returning. He was still bedridden, by strict order of Madam Pomfrey, but he could at least sit up and feed himself. He preferred that much more than being spoon fed by an insistent mediwitch. No matter how much or how fiercely Snape glared at her, she was relentless in caring for him. He would thank her, eventually, but for now she was humiliating him, and he couldn't help the snide remarks that would occasionally leave his mouth.

Snape was bored out of his mind. When he realized he would give anything to be able to teach so that he could have parchments to grade, he understood just how bored he was. He had been doing a lot of reading, which entertained him, but even Severus Snape could read for only so long.

Albus had been stopping by _constantly_, which annoyed Snape to no end. The man was relentless, smothering him as though he were a child. Snape enjoyed his company however, when the older wizard wasn't fluffing his pillows or tucking in his covers.

Severus Snape wasn't kidding himself, however; Albus Dumbledore held a very special place in his heart. Swallowing around a lump that was forming in his throat, he recalled the conversation they'd had just twenty-four hours after Severus had been attacked.

* * *

(Flashback)

Dumbledore approached Snape's bed slowly with immense sorrow covering his gentle features. He hadn't yet had the opportunity to talk with Severus, as he had allowed Harry to go first and Snape had passed out shortly after. He had decided to let the younger wizard rest, and after a full day had passed, he simply could wait no longer to speak with the man he cared for so much.

Severus' appearance was quite dreadful, and Albus found it hard to believe that this was the wizard who always looked so intimidating and powerful. Even as the younger wizard slept, he looked to be in pain. His eyes were shut tightly, and there was a frown upon his lips.

Dumbledore took a seat next to the bed and, as gently as possible, took Severus' hand into his own. He began lightly stroking the top of Snape's hand with his thumb, trying to provide what little comfort he could to the wizard who was in so much pain.

Snape's eyes began to blink open at the touch, and it took a moment for the wizard's vision to clear before he could focus on the older man next to him.

He found Albus smiling sadly at him, and Snape did not like the fact that his pain was thereby causing pain for the people he cared for.

"Glad to have you back, Severus," Dumbledore said gently.

Snape groaned as he attempted to raise himself a little, not wanting to appear so vulnerable in front of the wizard he respected so much.

Dumbledore placed his other hand on Snape's shoulder, preventing the younger wizard from moving.

A chastising look was on Dumbledore's face. "Do not move on my account, my dear boy. Poppy will have a fit," he finished more lightly.

"Hmm," Snape responded in agreement. "That woman is relentless," he added with distaste.

Albus chuckled softly. "You should try to be more patient with her, you know. I've heard her grumbling about strapping you to the bed once or twice while stomping out of your quarters."

A smirk of satisfaction spread across Snape's face. "I'll bet she has."

A small smile spread on Dumbledore's lips before his tone became more serious. "How can one who takes such good care of those around him take such poor measures to care for himself?"

Snape frowned at the gentleness of Dumbledore's tone, as well as the tender way in which he was still rubbing his hand.

"Do not pity me, Albus," Snape said through clenched teeth. "You know I will not accept it."

Dumbledore looked back at Snape with a sadness in his eyes that momentarily startled the Potions master. "I do not pity you, my boy. I care for you, more than you will ever know."

Snape frowned at those words and shook his head in disagreement. He knew very well how much Albus cared, and he needed his mentor to know it as well. "You have treated me with more kindness and understanding than anyone else in my life. My own father pales in comparison to you, Albus."

"Your father was a fool."

Snape couldn't help but stare wide eyed at Albus' unabashed insult toward another person, as it was a rare occurrence.

Dumbledore looked toward Snape sincerely, his blue eyes becoming glassy as he squeezed the younger wizard's hand. "If ever I had known the joy of having a son, I would have wanted one as brave and as honorable as you, Severus."

Snape felt his throat constrict at those words, his eyes betraying him as they too began to well up. "Honorable?" he scoffed as a frown lined his features. He turned his head to look forward, blinking roughly to hide his sudden emotion from his mentor.

"Everyone makes mistakes," Dumbledore answered gently, looking at the young wizard who now refused to meet his own eyes. Perhaps in shame? No, that wouldn't do. Severus Snape had nothing to be ashamed of, not anymore.

"Look at me, my son."

Snape swallowed thickly, his head turning to the side as his dark, glassy eyes met the brilliant blue of his mentor. Snape's head tilted slightly in wonder upon the realization that Albus Dumbledore's cheeks had watery trails where fresh tears had just fallen.

"Albus…" Severus choked. He'd never seen the older wizard so open.

"Take a look at yourself, Severus," Dumbledore said sadly with a shake of his head. "Not many men would have put themselves through a _fraction_ of what you have to make amends for past mistakes."

"Not many men have made such ghastly mistakes," Snape came back seriously.

"Those who have certainly do not compensate for them in the manner that you have, and still are. A lesser man would have run in cowardice, but not you, Severus Snape. Never you."

Snape shook his head at the blatant compliments that were being shoved upon him. He opened his mouth to protest, to insist he didn't deserve such kind words, but he didn't have the chance.

"No arguments from you, dear boy. My word is final, remember?" Dumbledore smiled at the younger wizard before releasing his hand and standing before him. In a fatherly manner, Albus brushed Snape's long hair out of his face before leaning over and placing a kiss on the wizard's forehead. "Rest now, my son," he whispered gently.

Severus could only look back at his mentor with wide eyes that displayed every one of his emotions. Nodding slowly in response, he watched as Dumbledore smiled yet again in his direction, before turning and walking out the door.

* * *

Snape came out of his memory with glassy eyes. He silently cursed himself for getting emotional once again, and hoped that he was not truly becoming so soft. Despite those worries, however, Severus was grateful for all the older wizard did for him, and not just in regard to the past few days. Even though he was furious at Albus for meddling, he couldn't deny how glad he was to have formed a kinship with Harry.

Harry.

The teenage wizard had been coming by every day after class to check on him. He would usually stay for a few hours, sometimes remaining at his side until night and falling asleep in the chair next to Snape's bed. At first, the Boy-Who-Lived didn't want to leave Snape's side at all until the Potions master was fully recovered. However, despite the fact that Snape was bedridden, he still had the ability to glare someone into submission. He was most insistent that Harry resumed his studies, especially since he had no idea how long he'd have to lie in that infernal bed.

At that thought, Snape looked up from the book he realized he wasn't reading at all to gaze at the boy sitting next to him. Harry had a book open as well, and appeared to actually be reading it, unlike Snape. The teenager's eyebrows were furrowed, his mouth moving once in a while as he read the words to himself. One corner of Snape's mouth turned up in a smile, and it was at just that moment that Harry looked up to meet his gaze.

The Boy-Who-Lived smiled at first and then, upon seeing the moisture in Snape's eyes, his brow narrowed in confusion.

"Professor?" Harry questioned with concern as he set his book to the side.

Snape looked away quickly, embarrassed that he had been caught looking at the boy so openly. "Hmm? What is it?" he asked nonchalantly as he began pretending to read his book again.

Harry smirked at his professor's uncharacteristic coyness. "I sort of thought it was you who wanted something, sir."

"Is a moment's peace too much to ask?"

Snape inwardly winced at the edge that covered his voice. He hadn't meant to sound that way, and, in fact, he hadn't even meant what he said at all. He didn't want Harry to leave; he only uttered those words because of the embarrassment he felt.

Confusion spread across Harry's face once again at his professor's abrupt mood swing. "All right, I'll just go then," he replied with a shrug.

Snape opened his mouth to call Harry back, but was cut off when Madam Pomfrey entered the room.

"Harry! Where do you think you're going?" she questioned as she wheeled a cart of first aid materials out of the fireplace.

"Well, I was just, ah…" Harry stammered as Madam Pomfrey tapped her foot impatiently.

"Whatever you were going to do, it can wait. I need your help with redressing Professor Snape's bandages." The mediwitch wheeled the cart next to Snape's bed and began pulling out the necessary items.

Snape's eyes widened ever so slightly before he sent a menacing glare in the witch's direction. "I really don't think that's necessary-"

"No complaints from you, Severus Snape!" she commanded in a severe tone. She then took a step closer to the Potions master, both glaring at each other as she did, and set about carefully undoing some bandages that went all the way around Snape's torso. "Harry, go on your professor's other side and pass the bandages over to me."

Harry nodded and did as he was told. He wouldn't admit it out loud, but he was taking some pleasure in seeing his imposing professor having to relent to the mediwitch.

Snape leaned forward ever so slightly at the pressure Poppy was applying to his back. He winced at the pain it caused, thereby causing him to be more angry at the situation. Here it had been almost a week, and just the act of leaning forward was still causing him a lot of pain.

Severus sat still for several minutes, grumbling under his breath as Harry and Poppy finished taking off the old bandages and began to bind him with new, sterile cloths. He really didn't think this was proper. Having one of his own students help with his care! It seemed very unprofessional of Poppy. In fact, a smirk spread across his lips as he opened his mouth to say so, but was cut off by the mediwitch.

"Oh, don't look so grumpy, Severus. You want these wounds to get infected?" Poppy asked in a knowing manner.

"We wouldn't want that, would we?" Snape answered through clenched teeth. "Merlin help me if I had to put up with _you_ longer than necessary," he grumbled under his breath.

Poppy's lips tightened in a strict manner as she lightly slapped Severus over the back of the head. Snape glared in her direction, and Harry was trying his best to stifle his laughter at the scene.

"Is something amusing you, Potter?" Snape asked with a quirk of his eyebrow in Harry's direction.

"No, sir," Harry responded quickly. Although the wide grin on his face and snorting sound his throat was making belied his answer.

Snape was giving Harry a reprimanding look when his eyes widened in horror. Poppy stripped the sheet that was covering his lower body and began undoing the bandages that wrapped around his lower abdomen. Snape all but snarled at her as he grabbed her wrists, effectively stopping her motions.

Poppy looked up and met his glare with a mischievous smile. "Oh, come now, Severus. You don't have anything the boy hasn't already seen on his own body."

Harry thought he might die laughing as his professor's cheeks turned red with embarrassment.

Poppy winked at Harry, a grin on her face. "I'm only kidding, Severus. I'll be back to dress those wounds later."

Snape continued to glare daggers in her direction, pulling the sheet back over his body as he did.

"Watch over him, Harry," Madam Pomfrey said as she gathered her materials and headed for the fireplace. "And Floo me if he needs anything," she added before disappearing in an emerald wash of flames.

"Insufferable, intrusive, irritating…" Snape continued to grumble insults under his breath as Harry smirked at him.

"You deserved that, you know," Harry said, a wide grin on his face.

"I don't believe anyone asked _your_ opinion, Potter," Snape bit back, his eyes narrowed in anger and lingering embarrassment.

Harry shook his head, smiling at his professor and began walking toward the exit.

"Where do you think you're going?" Snape's deep voice commanded.

Harry shrugged as he kept walking. "If I'm not mistaken, I was told to give you a moment's-"

"Sit down, you impudent brat."

Harry smirked as he took his seat again, and Snape couldn't stop the small smile that spread across his lips in response.

The two sat in a comfortable silence for a few moments before Harry decided to be the bold Gryffindor he was.

"So, why were you looking at me like that?" the Boy-Who-Lived questioned with a smile.

Snape looked back at him levelly, hoping to not have to answer that question. When Harry responded to his glare by folding his arms over his chest and glaring right back, Severus let out a deep sigh. "Oh, come now, Potter. You truly don't know?"

Harry rolled his eyes at how his professor managed to answer a question with a question. "Always the Slytherin, Professor."

Snape smirked before Harry added thoughtfully, "Well… almost."

Snape eyed Harry steadily, and the deep, searching look of his professor was beginning to make Harry feel as though he were under a microscope.

"Hermione's been asking about you," the teenager commented, wanting to change the subject.

Snape's eyebrows rose slightly in response as he snapped out of his reverie. "Has she indeed?"

Harry nodded. "She sends you her best, and says she hopes you get better soon."

Snape nodded his head slowly. "She really is an intolerable know-it-all, that girl."

Harry snorted as he sat back in his chair. "Tell me about it."

"But still," Snape considered thoughtfully, "I do believe I owe her an apology."

Harry's eyebrows shot up. "What?"

"An _eventual_ apology," Snape added with a smirk.

Harry smiled crookedly in response. "Is there something you should be telling me, Professor?"

Snape regarded Harry carefully, his dark eyes appearing more soulful than the Boy-Who-Lived had ever seen them before.

"Professor?" Harry asked again, although much more seriously now.

Snape sighed deeply. "There is something I've been meaning to tell you, Harry. About what happened that night…" the older wizard trailed off quietly.

Harry blew out a breath. "I've been dying to know about it, sir, but I didn't want to pry."

Snape smiled gently. "So the famous Harry Potter does have some tact after all." He turned his head to look at the young wizard fondly. "Who would have thought?"

The messy-haired teenager smiled sheepishly, shrugging his shoulders. As Harry looked back at his professor, he couldn't help but think about how far they'd come already. There was no malice in his professor's voice when he spoke to him, not even while chiding him about being "famous". It really was quite remarkable.

The Potions master's gentle smile soon faded, his face taking on an expression of dread. He took a deep breath before speaking. "The Dark Lord expects me to deliver you into his hands, Harry."

The Boy-Who-Lived wasn't expecting that. "W-what?" he stammered with wide eyes.

Severus nodded slowly. "I was able to block my feelings from him, but failed to block yours as well," he added quietly.

The young wizard's forehead crinkled in confusion. "What do you mean? He saw that I care for you, but not the other way around?"

Snape smirked. "Congratulations, Potter. I didn't expect you to deduce an answer from the obviously puzzling way I speak."

Harry glared at the sarcasm. He had a teasing remark of his own, but didn't have the chance to say it as Snape began talking again.

"His… _treatment_ of me served two purposes. Punishment for not attending the last meeting, and baiting you into caring for me more."

Harry frowned. "Well, mission accomplished," he uttered angrily.

Snape smiled ruefully. It was rather touching to hear people admit that they care for you. It seemed as though in the last few weeks he'd heard it more than the entire rest of his life.

"Despite this situation," Snape began as he gestured toward his own body, "we really couldn't have asked for a better assignment from him."

Harry's eyes went wide. "You're not going back there? Not after… not after _this_!" he shouted, looking over his professor's dire condition.

Snape looked at the young wizard pointedly. He began speaking with a tone that brooked no argument, with words that were clipped. "The Dark Lord has given me an assignment, Harry. That alone would mean I am going back there only this time; we can actually use his orders to _our_ advantage."

The Boy-Who-Lived stood up angrily. "I don't bloody care if he ordered you to have tea and crumpets with him! You're _not_ going back there!"

"Foolish boy!" Severus snapped, his good arm snatching Harry by the shirt collar and pulling him down so that they were face to face. "Is your mental acumen that much below par? What do you think the Dark Lord will do to me the next time we meet if I _don't_ go back?"

Harry's emerald orbs darted back and forth as he looked at each one of Snape's dark eyes in turn. "I-I don't want to know, Professor," he answered truthfully. Merlin but the man could still intimidate him like no other!

"Neither do I," Snape replied, his voice softening. He sighed deeply, releasing his hold on the younger wizard and regarding him with weary eyes. "His plan is for me to 'return' your respect, so that we can grow closer. It will then be my responsibility to lure you to him. Only…"

Harry waited, watching as his professor's face filled with determination.

"Only the day that I take you to him will be the day we fight him, side by side."

Harry could only nod in response, his chest warming at the meaning behind his professor's words.

The two entered into a moment of silence again, both contemplating what that day would be like. It was inevitable and quite terrifying, and Harry hoped he would have the strength to defeat the creature that had been haunting him for so many years now.

Snape breathed deeply, and the two wizards eyes met once again.

"There was… there was something else. Something that happened that night…"

Harry looked at his professor quizzically. Whatever this "something" was, it was clearly affecting his professor in a strong way. Professor Snape was not one to stammer.

Snape looked back into Harry's eyes, steeling himself. "While I was being tortured… there was a moment when I thought I would not last. Everything-everything was going black, and I feared I might pass out."

Harry frowned at the thought of his professor being in such agonizing pain. It hurt him deep inside to consider what the wizard before him had went through. It especially pained him to think about what may be yet to come.

Snape inhaled deeply again, his breath shaky as he continued. "I saw your mother that night, Harry."

Harry's eyes widened as he leaned forward. "My-my mother?"

Snape nodded, his dark, soulful eyes not leaving the emerald ones that stared back at him wondrously. "She helped me through it. She helped me overcome the blackness so that I could return to you."

Harry continued to look at his professor with amazement. "She was really… I mean, you really saw her?"

A small smile spread across Snape's lips as he nodded. "She was just as I remember. Kind and loving, beautiful…" the professor trailed off. "_Not to mention forgiving…_" he mentally added with a pang of guilt.

Harry was smiling widely now, at the thought of his mother. "What did she say to you, sir?"

"She said many meaningful things, Harry. But most importantly, she told me she was counting on me to continue looking after you."

Harry smiled sadly to himself, watching as his professor's face took on a pained look. The teenager understood that Snape didn't want to talk about his mother anymore, as it seemed to be too hurtful. The Boy-Who-Lived couldn't help but be hopeful that one day his professor could talk about her more easily. Gathering his Gryffindor courage, he decided there was no harm in asking.

"Will you tell me more about my parents someday, sir?" The teenager paused thoughtfully for a moment. "Well, at least about my mother? I'd rather not hear a string of insults about my father," he added with a smirk.

Snape looked back at the teenager solemnly, a thousand thoughts racing through his mind. He wondered if he would ever be able to confess to the caring boy that he was partly responsible for his beloved parents' death. Not purposefully, of course, but responsible all the same. Would he lose the love and trust of the young wizard before him? Snape squashed the thought for now; he would have to cross that bridge when he came to it.

Swallowing thickly, Snape began to nod. "I think I can do that," he said quietly.

Harry's face lit up with happiness. "Really? About my dad, too?"

"_That_, Mr. Potter," Snape began with his typical cynicism, "will remain to be seen."

Harry smirked at his professor; he had expected an answer like that. His face sobered then, as he asked a question he hoped he wouldn't be reprimanded for.

"Will you ever tell me about your family, sir?"

Snape paled slightly at the question. He sought out the eagerness in Harry's expression and forced himself to understand that the boy would be curious about his past. "Perhaps," he managed to answer.

Harry settled back in his seat, knowing that was the best he could ask from Severus Snape, for now, anyway.

"Family is a funny thing," Snape commented with a small smile. "You can find it in the least likely of places."

Harry stilled at those words, his mind recalling how he had defined family not so long ago during his time with the Dursleys.

/Family was what chased away the bad dreams and replaced them with the good. Family was a comforting hug or reassuring pat on the back when you felt at your worst. Family was protection from anything and everything that attempted to harm you. Family was loving with all your heart, and actually receiving that love in return./

Harry smiled to himself as he looked to the wizard next to him. Professor Severus Snape fulfilled every one of Harry's requirements for what a family was. Even when Harry thought it was impossible for the professor to show an ounce of kindness, the older wizard had held him for hours so that the Boy-Who-Lived wouldn't be alone after his nightmares. Snape was his protector, and the teenager knew that the older wizard would lay down his own life before he let any harm come to Harry Potter. The Boy-Who-Lived then looked down at the strong hand that now covered his own, and thought back to the night when Snape had saved him from falling. The look in his professor's eyes was unmistakable, much like the look he was receiving from the older wizard now.

Harry looked down for a moment, avoiding the black eyes as he spoke. "I used to really dislike you… a lot."

"I didn't give you much cause to feel differently, did I?"

Harry looked back up to see the smile in his professor's eyes.

The Boy-Who-Lived smiled back. "No, I… guess you didn't."

"And now… Harry?"

"Now," Harry paused as he clutched his mentor's hand. "Now I don't know what I'd do without you."

~The End~

A/N: Beta-ed by Sindie

I sincerely hope you enjoyed the story. Sequel information is in the next 'chapter' :-)

Cheers!

~Kat


	20. Sequel Update

New Story Update!!

Here I am, wonderful readers, to let you know that I have posted the first chapter of the sequel to The Sleeping Sickness. The story is called Deceptive Cadence, and you can get to it through the link in my profile or by searching for it, whatever you feel like doing.

The story will be about Harry and Snape (of course!) continuing on their path of friendship and mutual respect. There will be obstacles that will test how strong their bond is, and we will have to wait and see how our heroes manage to deal with it.

There is more information once you go to the actual story, but not too much! Wouldn't want to give anything away now would we?

Thank you to everyone who read The Sleeping Sickness, and I sincerely hope that you enjoy the journey that will be Deceptive Cadence!

Cheers!

~Kat


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